The Grim and the Sun
by bythefireside
Summary: The Light has lost. With the Dark Lord ruling over Britain, Hermione has known much grief and must tread very carefully, especially if she wishes to keep her darkest secret as she struggles against the seduction of the Dark Arts and Voldemort himself.
1. Chapter 1

**AN**: Greetings, fair readers. I cannot be sure where I plan to end with this story but I do promise that I have it outlined so far about ¾ of the way through. Though, you know as well as I do how finicky characters tend to be, especially, ahem, established characters. They just make so many demands. Well, do enjoy, and let me know how you think it's going. I'll update once a week. I'm also considering doing the "grown-up" scenes over at adult fanfiction…we'll see.

**Chapter 1 **

Hermione tried to stand with her head high. It was on her House pride that she held it up. She knew she was shaking like a leaf. She stood in an amphitheater, being jeered and mocked at by a sea of Death Eaters. Ginny stood beside her, pale and trembling. Hermione squeezed her hand, but offered no words of comfort. What could she say? They were wandless, defenseless, out numbered. She was very aware of the empty throne at their backs, and who would occupy it. Once He did, then the _festivities_ would start, she was sure. Every hair on the back of her neck was prickled, her senses tingling.

She had no concrete evidence, but she thought she had an idea of what Death Eater festivities may include. Nothing that came to mind ended well for her or Ginny. Hermione gave her head a sharp shake. No tears. Tears would only make her look weaker, and give them more to ridicule. She was a Gryffindor. Harry had met his death bravely. She would too. When the hisses from the assembled Death Eaters ceased, her breath caught, and she could feel Ginny's finger's digging into her hand, and she heard a soft rustle of robes. Hermione dared to glance behind her, and wished she hadn't, as if not looking would make it less real.

Voldemort was now lounging in the throne, flicking his wand lazily, flanked by a few of his followers. Her eyes met his scarlet ones for a moment. The fear she felt was overwhelming, and she felt her courage slipping away like sand through her fingers, no matter how she struggled to hold onto it. His face was a pale unreadable mask; the red eyes and snake-like features made her feel like she was looking upon a demon. Or Satan himself. She heard Ginny's breath quicken beside her.

"How dare you filthy mudblood look upon the Dark Lord! _Crucio_!" Hermione noticed Bellatrix Lestrange for the first time, and her manic, furious expression, a moment before the curse hit her. She hit the icy marble floor, the searing pain of the curse ripping through her body, alighting every nerve on fire. Perhaps the curse was stronger than the last time she had been tortured by it, or maybe her head smacked against the marble as she fell, all she knew was that the world was fading to black, and the pain, blessedly, was fading as her consciousness did.

_Two months earlier._

Hermione held Ron's gaze, her eyes filling with tears. His brows furrowed and he gave her a soft smile, and she knew that he felt the same pangs as she did. Professor McGonagall joined their hands and softly spoke the binding.

"Is there any reason why these two should not be wedded?" The words were more a formality than anything; only half a dozen people were present, and most were Order members. No one spoke against it. Luna Lovegood looked serene, as if this was a perfectly normal wedding. Hermione tried to imagine that this was as she dreamed it would be, that she was in a white wedding dress, standing outside the Burrow, her father having just walked her down the aisle, Harry standing at Ron's side, grinning at them. She opened her eyes and the reality was stark. She was getting married in hastily transfigured white robes, at a rundown (though currently charmed rather prettily) safe house somewhere in Wales, and her father had not walked her down the aisle. Her parents were living safe somewhere, obliviated of the knowledge they ever had a daughter, and she had obliviated the knowledge of where they were from her own memory.

She'd never see them again. Her breath hitched and she felt the tears overflow. It seemed that grief never dulled, and like every happiness sharpened it, making both the sorrow and joy acutely felt. Today was painfully bittersweet, her parents gone…and _Harry_, dear, Harry. She could almost imagine him there, by their sides, patting Ron's shoulder encouragingly, winking at Hermione. She would have blushed, and Ron would have stood up a little straighter. Harry would never see them though. He was gone, vanquished by Voldemort at the last battle at Hogwarts, a prophecy fulfilled. So many had been lost that day, so many sacrifices. Professor Snape had been killed. Tonks and Lupin were both gone. Their son Teddy was left an orphan, without even his Godfather Harry.

Then there was Neville, he had been so brave, rushing at Nagini with the sword of Gryffindor, only to be caught unaware by the killing curse at his back.

Hermione met Ron's eyes again, casting the pain to the back of her mind, and she smiled softly back at him. He brushed the tears from her face, and she realized he was crying too. She felt a fierce wave of love for him in that moment, that Ron was crying unashamedly. Professor McGonagall finished the spell that would marry them and a white light surrounded Hermione and Ron's clasped hands, "your wands, please." Ron and Hermione both brought out their wands and from the tips of each of their wands two streaks of white light emerged after they repeated the incantation. The light brightened, then knotted around each other. As it faded, Minerva smiled at them, "I now pronounce you man and wife, and bound for life. Mr. Weasley, you may kiss your bride."

Ron leaned forward to kiss her, and he was blushing. His lips touched hers in a soft, tentative kiss.

"Bloody hell Ron! Kiss your wife right, or do I have to show you how to properly?" George broke the silence. There were a few chuckles, and Ron turn to glare at his brother. Hermione eyed the golden balloons George had strung up above them. Apparently that kiss wasn't enough to cause to balloons to celebrate.

"Do you mind?" Ron hollered, then turned back to Hermione, and looked a bit nervous. "Ah hell, I forgot the rings!" Digging into his robes Ron pulled out two plain gold wedding bands. Slipping his on quickly, her slid hers on slowly, retaining her hand. "There. Now I'll kiss you proper," he whispered. He pulled her to him and kissed her enthusiastically.

The golden balloons popped and tiny golden bells, and birds of paradise began to fly around the room, singing and ringing. Hermione forgot for a moment that everyone was watching them and kissed him back, deepening the kiss, and falling into his embrace. A cough from behind them broke them apart. Professor McGonagall looked slightly embarrassed. George and Bill let out hoots, and Luna, Fleur, and Ginny were clapping. Hermione smiled at them, letting the glow of happiness come over her. Ginny's eyes were watering, and Fleur looked lovely even as her tears flowed. Luna was throwing seeds at them, smiling. Ron looked like he was going to complain, but then just shook his head, shaking the seeds out of his hair. Hermione was tempted to ask _why _the _seeds_, but knew the answer would be nonsensical and probably just frustrate her. She just thanked Luna, who nodded,

"They're Periwinkle seeds. They'll keep away the Fargles for at least two months. Fargles love to cause mischief for newlyweds, you know." Hermione just thanked her again. She wasn't going to argue on her wedding day. Ginny rushed to her side and embraced her,

"We're really sisters now." Hermione hugged her back.

"I like the sound of that. Being an only child isn't that fun you know."

"You might miss it after being related to this lot for the rest of your life," Ginny gestured towards Bill and George. Charlie hadn't been able to leave his new hatchlings, but had sent a gift. Hermione had been suspicious of the obviously dragon-egg shape of the present. Percy was conspicuously absent, though he had sent a card full of seemingly sincere well wishes. She supposed it was hard to integrate back into the family so quickly after years of estrangement. Fred, Mrs. Weasley and Mr. Weasley hadn't survived the battle. Their absence was a heavy weight. Hermione realized with a start that _she _was Mrs. Weasley now. She was brought abruptly out of her thoughts as George swept her off her feet in a bear hug,

"Only happy thoughts today, little sister." She hugged him back tightly. He was right. She poked his side,

"So what pranks have you planned for our reception?" George gave her a look of surprise, his eyes wide and innocent, _too_ innocent.

"Why, I would never!" Hermione glared at him, then grinned.

"Do your worst." Ron groaned from behind her.

"Oh, good call 'Mione, just give him permission to ruin the reception." Ron was scowling at his brother but she could tell Ron was enjoying himself. It was nice to banter; it made everything seem so normal. Fleur kissed her cheeks excitedly,

"Welcome to zee family 'ermione," Hermione kissed her back after a moment of hesitation, "come, let's go outback, I 'ope you like ze decorations I made, ze are so pretty!"

Bill gave Hermione a quick side hug, and kissed one cheek.

"Fleur couldn't help herself, I'm afraid she made every cake in mom's old recipe book. Though I think Ginny saved most of them from being burnt. Hope you like sweets." Hermione's eyes widened. If she remembered correctly, that had been a _very_ thick recipe book…there was absolutely no way she could eat that much. Fleur was beckoning them to follow her outside now, her face lit up with excitement. At Bill's words, Ron about shot out the door, eagerly dragging her along.

Fleur hadn't been exaggerating. Her decorations were pretty—more than that—they were _beautiful_. They were tiny, exquisite works of art floating around the backyard. Bubbles were floating across the yard, images of dancers inside them. Small, glowing crystals were strung from the house to a large Oak tree, having for a moment the charm of muggle Christmas lights. They jumped though, from line, to line, creating little auroras of color. Ginny stood beside her, caught up in the display of lights and bubbles too.

"This makes all my ideas for the reception seem like a 1st years attempt at charms," she huffed, though her eyes were still glued above. Ginny finally looked away and said, "come on, there's more to see." Ginny pulled her hand toward the dessert table. It was overwhelming.

Bill had not exaggerated one bit. There were at least a dozen different cakes spread across a table that had be transfigured to be as long as the house. Most of the cakes were towers of different colors, frostings, some had strawberries, blueberries, others chocolates, dark and milk, there were cakes with nuts, some with sprinkles, charmed cakes that sparkled or had small figurines in constant pirouettes, a cake made of rainbow cupcakes. In the middle of the table there was a single tiered, plain, Muggle white wedding cake. The figurines atop did not move, or dance, uncharmed. Hermione recognized them though.

They were the same toppers her parents had had. She had shown Ginny the memory once of her house, and had shown her the curio cabinet where the toppers were kept, gathering dust, but much loved. Hermione was so touched, overwhelmed by everything. She would be protesting, or embarrassed usually, but she knew in part, the extravagance had to do with the girls needing a distraction, something happy to dwell on. She could not ruin that for them; she needed it just as much. In the middle of being on the run from the Voldemort everyone had paused to come to her and Ron's wedding.

She began to tear up again, touched, and feeling loved. She couldn't seem to stop blubbering tonight.

"Ginny, Fleur, it's so, so lovely-"

There was a loud crack of apparation, and though everyone knew that the location of the house was thrice secure, by wards, a secret keeper, and repelling charms, everyone immediately took a defensive stance. There was not one wand that wasn't at the ready. Bill had placed Fleur behind him, and Ron had immediately been at her and Ginny's side. Luna looked alert for a moment, wand held lightly in her hand, but then decided to finish the cupcake she had begun to nibble on.

"What a greeting. Yes, well, vigilance is good, but lower your wands already. I'm in no mood to be hexed." Aberforth and Hagrid stepped away from each other, and Hagrid looked slightly nauseous from the side-along apparation.

"Bloody never get use to that," he was muttering.

Hermione felt herself flush with embarrassment, and lowered her wand. It seemed everyone's nerves were on high alert. Fred broke the tension by laughing and scratching the back of his head in the trademark sign of Weasley embarrassment. _Constant Vigilance_, she told herself, feeling her cheeks cool. They couldn't afford to completely forget that Voldemort and his Death Eaters were still looking for them. It had been nearly five months since the final battle; time enough to begin to feel a sense of false security as they hid, of anonymity as they blended in. Hagrid took several lumbering steps over to her and Ron and took them both into his arms in a giant, near-bone-crushing hug. Great, awful noises were coming from him, and as her shoulder dampened, she recognized his sounds as crying.

"Aw, come on now, mate, you're getting my robes all wet!" Ron exclaimed, "It's good and well to see you but I can't breathe!" Hagrid released them then. Hermione held on a moment longer, squeezing the half giant back then let go. She took a stumbling step back to the ground, and smiled up at him.

"It's so good to see you Hagrid!" He was wiping his eyes with the back of his hand, and sniffled,

"I've been so worried! Hadn't seen you two since the—the battle," Hermione could tell it took a monumental effort for him to remain composed then, "everything being as it is now. New laws, restrictions…can't believe a Death Eater is the Minister of Magic now…" Hagrid shook his mane, "now, look at what I've done! Gone and spoiled the mood. It's a wedding! You two are married! Let's celebrate! Oh, bless my heart! _Married_!" Ginny rushed over to a Muggle-looking record player, and tapping it with her wand a projection hovered above it. It was a hologram of sorts of the Weird Sisters, performing their song "Do the Hippogriff." Hermione pulled Ron towards the record player to dance. Fleur was quick to grab Bill and join them. Ginny looked sad a moment, then giving Hagrid a long contemplative look, brought him out to dance. Aberforth looked a bit sour, and was about to open his mouth when Minerva swatted him across the head.

"Minerva," he bit out.

"Aberforth." She replied pleasantly.

"We didn't travel for nearly four days just to come to a wedding, as much as I wish that was the case."

"Yes, I thought as much. Just give them tonight. They are still so young. I can't help seeing them as my students still." Aberforth watched with faint amusement as Hermione tried to get Ron to stop stepping on her toes as they danced. The dunce wasn't improving a whit.

"Minerva, _they_ more than anyone know the realities of war. It does nobody any good to coddle them. They aren't your students anymore."

"It is because they so clearly know the realities of war that they must have tonight Aberforth, all of them. It's so easy to forget what it is you're fighting for." Aberforth sighed. Minerva was a tough old goat. There was a burst of light and looking up Aberforth could see that the Weasley twin, the remaining one that is, had released miniature fireworks, with silencing spells on them. Clever boy. The wards would of kept the noise in, but he had reduced the risk of exposure.

He heard Minerva gasp and he looked over at her. She had begun to sway to the music, awkwardly, in jagged, uncontrolled movements. He felt his body tingle, and knew he'd just had a jinx cast on him. As he too began to sway to the music, his face twisted in anger,

"WEASLEY!" Four heads immediately turned to look at him. Though only one Weasley held a smug grin on their face. "Take this Jinx off us, now!" Aberforth roared. Everyone was staring at him and Minerva dancing. He knew he was bright red. Red with anger, of course.

"What are you lot staring at!" That seemed to get them back to dancing with their partners, though he felt a few more curious glances thrown his way.

"Aw, now come on, dancing isn't that bad, is it?" George asked, grinning. He looked at Minerva then, "Professor, you don't object to dancing do you?"

"Certainly not, Mr. Weasley, but most definitely—oh—not in this manner." George frowned, a perfect look of contriteness.

"Well, it's a short jinx. It'll end just as soon as this song is over. I just, uh, thought you two should enjoy tonight too. You know, remember what you're fighting for and all." George winked then. Aberforth's eyes grew wide. How had he heard that? Minerva just sighed,

"I do wish you'd stop trying to cause mischief all the time, George."

"Now, I think it's just me being a right matchmaker! I do claim all credit in Hermione and Ron finally-" Aberforth's voice grew brusque and cut him off,

"What are you talking about?" George scratched the back of his head.

"Well, you both have been released from the Jinx for about a minute now and have kept dancing…." They both immediately stopped, and then glared at the red head. George held up his hands in self-defense, "truce! Truce! Here-" he grabbed something from his pocket and tossed it at Aberforth, "extendable ears, my peace offering. Well enjoy the party!" Then he ran over towards the bride and groom, cutting in and swirling Hermione around again. Minerva stayed Aberforth's arm; he was ready to throw a few hexes George Weasley's way. Instead of looking angry, Minerva was chuckling.

"The boy has a point. We shouldn't forget what we're fighting for either."


	2. Chapter 2

**AN**: I'm really excited so many of you have put my story on alert. I'll definitely update once a week. If I'm feeling creative, maybe more than that. I apologize for any grammar errors or spelling errors I missed in proofreading. A few more chapters and we'll get into the plot of the story. Please review and tell me what you think! Onwards!

**Chapter 2**

Hermione awoke, feeling hot and restricted. She cracked open an eye. Ron had at some point during the night thrown a leg over hers, and she was being held to his chest. It wasn't how they had fallen asleep. She threw the covers off her back and the cool air was an immediate relief. She blushed, staring at Ron's freckled chest, as she recalled the previous night. She could see a faint bruise forming on his chest were she had bit him a little too hard. He had yelped when she did. She had immediately soothed it with soft kisses, and he had relaxed. She refrained from biting him again.

Hermione had never had sex before. She of course had read about it, in a very scientific sense, and also a few times when she read some of Ginny's romance novels. The novels were always giving descriptions that seemed laughable. Stars exploding, earth shattering, repeat orgasmic encounters. She brushed a lock of hair away from Ron's face, studying it. Long, pale lashes, a wide mouth, with a full bottom lip, and freckles across the bridge of his nose. She kissed him softly, not wanting to wake him. She felt safe with Ron. Warm. A lightness in her heart. Even the sex was that way; it was gentle, and loving, as they learned each other's bodies. No exploding stars, but a sweet, slow burn.

Hermione glanced at the clock on the bedside table. It was a quarter to nine. She sighed. They had had a lovely, beautiful wedding, all things considered, and a night to themselves. Ron looked so peaceful; she hated to shatter this undisturbed bubble they had created around themselves, but she knew they had responsibilities. One more day alone would be okay wouldn't it? That wasn't too selfish, just another day without thinking about what had become of the Wizarding world, and their obligations to it. She cuddled closer to his chest and shut her eyes. She fell into a doze, or maybe she did fall asleep, but it seemed only a few minutes before Ron awoke yawning as someone banged on the bedroom door.

"Go away!" He called, groggily. Ron looked down at Hermione and had quirky grin on his mouth, "morning 'Mione." Hermione smiled back,

"Morning." He leaned down and kissed her, then pulled away quickly. Hermione looked confused.

"What's wrong?"

"I probably have morning breath," he laughed, and scratched his head. There was a banging at the door again, and it interrupted Hermione from replying. Ron stretched, and then walked off to the bathroom, ignoring the knocking. Hermione rolled her eyes. She could see the shape of their married life forming. She pulled on a robe over herself and went to open the door. Aberforth stood there, a trademark frown on his face.

"Honeymoon's over. Meet down in the kitchen in ten." He turned and went back down the stairs. Well, good morning to you too, she thought. She sighed, and glanced at the clock again. It was ten to noon. Well, they had gotten a few extra hours together. She supposed she should be grateful for whatever small bit they could afford. After a few seconds of hesitation, she went to join Ron in the bathroom.

They were down stairs twenty-five minutes later, flushed, and both sparkling clean. She suspected that it might have been longer had Ron's stomach not started protesting. Though, how he was _that_ hungry after eating so much cake the previous night was beyond her. He had tried every cake, some twice.

As they entered the kitchen, Hermione tried to avoid meeting Ginny's eyes. She just knew Ginny would give her a look. Why was she so embarrassed anyways? It was perfectly natural to expect a husband and wife to…_do_ certain things with each other. Maybe it was because her skin was still glowing… she also tried to avoid looking at George, knowing he'd cock an eyebrow or something and she'd be mortified.

"Good morning," she said in general as she walked in and calmly made a cup of coffee for herself and started to butter a piece of toast.

She spared a glance at Ron sitting beside her. He seemed fine, and at ease. Already chattering away with George, shoveling eggs into his mouth. She had a fleeting curiosity as to who had made breakfast. She was just relieved that Ron hadn't expected her to make it for him. She would have expected there to be a fight about it had they gotten married even a year ago. Bill and Fleur were sitting close to Aberforth, in a seemingly intense conversation. Professor McGonagall was sitting on Fleur's other side, a slightly pinched expression on her face. Her awkwardness fled, and she met Ginny's eyes.

"What's going on?" Ginny opened her mouth to answer, but Aberforth interjected

"I'll explain if you and Ron are ready now?" Hermione nodded. The conversation between Ron and George stopped, and everyone was looking at Aberforth now. Even Luna had stopped sipping at her tea. Hermione didn't see Hagrid anywhere. Aberforth thrummed his fingers on the table for a moment, looking as if he were thinking over his words, then simply said, "Severus Snape is alive."

Hermione and Ron shared a stunned look. How could he be alive? She, Ron and Harry had seen Professor Snape die. He had given Harry his memories. She had seen them, and had kept them stored in a crystal flask in her beaded bag. His memories were painfully personal; she had felt her heartbreak at his memories of Harry's mother, at the sacrifices he had made, that no one ever knew about.

They had made her realize that Professor Snape was one of the bravest men she ever knew. She also knew he would never of shared those unless he knew he was dying, they were too intimate. Hermione looked back at Aberforth,

"How is that possible?" Professor Snape being alive made her feel strangely happy and optimistic. It was a relief somehow to know that he hadn't died in the Shrieking Shack, his death unwarranted and in vain. Ron gripped her hand. He too, had seen the memories. While he was never going to be fond of the Potions Master, he respected the man for what he had done for Harry, everything else aside.

"He barely survived the attack. Nagini's poison is incredibly potent. Had anyone besides Severus been attacked, anyone with less of an immunity to poison built up over decades…" Aberforth shook his head, "…he's a lucky bastard. Or a very clever one." Hermione thought cleverness had more to do with it than luck, unless Professor Snape had simply made a habit of developing immunities to various poisons, including building up tolerances to rare venoms. Which, she considered, was not that improbable given the company he had kept. Still, that would have be an intelligent move, not a lucky one.

"Professor Snape would have made an excellent Ravenclaw," Luna commented absently, studying the tealeaves in her empty cup.

"I doubt a Ravenclaw could have been, uh, as artfully deceitful, that's pure Slytherin there," George responded.

"Where is he? Is he recovered now?" Hermione wanted to know. Professor McGonagall's face pinched up at this question, and Bill and Fleur shared a look.

"Severus has returned to the service of the Dark Lord." Ginny spoke up now,

"I still don't understand why he'd do that! You-know-who is the one that tried to kill him!" Professor McGonagall looked pained.

"Severus is not stupid. The safest place for him is at Voldemort's side. Voldemort has effectively, essentially, won the war. When Voldemort discovered that the true master of the Elder Wand had in fact, been Harry Potter, he felt—as much as Voldemort can feel—regret at his hasty decision to kill Severus. He did not know Severus had not died. When word of his regret reached Severus, he decided to present himself again to Voldemort. He is the reason that we've had very few close calls lately. Severus is as always, the perfect spy."

Her voice cracked on the last words. Ron seemed a bit confused.

"And Voldemort just went and accepted him back? Doesn't he know that he's loyal to the Order?" Hermione wanted to sigh. Ron could be so thick, god love him. He had this bad habit of assuming whatever he knew, that everyone else did too. Hermione had not shared the memories with anyone but Ron. They seemed too private. Also, being on the run for the last five months hadn't made divulging Professor Snape's secrets a priority.

"Ron, I highly doubt anyone outside of this room knows where Professor Snape's true loyalty lies." When Bill gave Hermione a curious glance at her comment she explained, "Professor Snape shared with Harry some rather…persuasive memories. We've seen these memories, and Professor Snape's loyalty is not in question as far as Ron and I are concerned."

"As much of a fool and a liar as my brother could be, I do believe his judgment concerning Severus was sound, even if we all do not agree on that." Aberforth seemed to admit this reluctantly. Hermione realized that meant that all of them were not united in their belief in Professor Snape's loyalty. That angered her, as irrational and unfair as it was. She herself didn't _fully_ trust Professor Snape until she'd watched the past unfolding in the pensive. She looked over at George, and then at Luna.

"I trust your judgment Hermione, as I've said before, if you say he's with us, then he is." George said, as if it was as simple as that. Luna nodded,

"You've spoken highly of Professor Snape since the Battle. You've brought up the memories before, when you've defended him. Even Ron seems less harsh, which is odd. I trust him." Bill and Fleur looked slightly skeptical.

"Maybe if we could see these memories, we'd be convinced as well." Bill offered.

"No." Hermione's answer was immediate. Fleur looked a bit annoyed.

"Eet ees not too much to ask, zat we see ze very things zat convinced you of 'is loyalty. Show eet to us." Hermione felt her temper flare, and held tightly onto it, though just barely. She could understand that what Fleur and Bill were asking of her was reasonable; Professor McGonagall had asked for the very same thing when a conversation had come up about Professor Snape before.

The tone of their conversation had been slightly different, because they had believed Professor Snape had been dead, but Hermione's answer had still been the same.

"No, it wouldn't be right. Professor Snape gave those to Harry because he thought he was _dying_. I'll not pass them around like, like some bargaining chip to convince you. You either trust him or you don't. Did you trust Harry? Did you trust Dumbledore?" at that Aberforth tutted a bit, so she added, "do you trust _us_?" Now Fleur did look angry, and Bill looked at a loss, caught between siding with his wife or with the rest of his family.

"Hermione, the last things we heard about Snape was that he had killed Dumbledore, and was on Voldemort's side at the battle of Hogwarts, what could you expect us to think?" Bill asked reasonably. Professor McGonagall spoke up,

"If I may add, before this gets too heated, that Severus has been in contact with Aberforth for nearly two weeks now. Every tip that Aberforth has passed on to me because of Severus has kept our heads above water, it would not do to disregard that." Hermione's eyes widened a bit at that. Why was it only now that Aberforth had told them of Snape being alive?

Even if seeing Aberforth in person was rare, he was in constant communication with them through enchanted compacts (and a few enchanted cigarette cases when Ron protested about carrying a compact.) Hermione had added a charm to them much like the Protean Charm, it would list a time and date on their respective devices, and for a brief period, communication would be possible, and undetectable. The most convenient, and dangerous, part of the charm was that there was no master compact or cigarette case; anyone of the Order members could indicate a time and date to open communication. She met Aberforth's eyes, they were sharp, and bright blue, and for a moment reminded her so much of Dumbledore.

"Why are you only telling us now that he's alive?"

"As you know the compacts only allow for so much communication before it becomes detectable. This news was not to be said so lightly; and there is more. Too much to say in the brief time we can communicate at a distance." Aberforth pushed his beard to the side, and pulled down his coat. For the first time, Hermione noticed a thick grey collar around his neck, she couldn't quite make them out, but she saw that the band was covered in white runes. "Voldemort likes to think of himself as a merciful lord," he spat, "I am working at Hog's Head again, with this as my marker as a traitor and a half-blood. Every witch and wizard wishing to attempt at a normal life, or to live at all, must wear a collar." Hermione stared aghast at the band,

"That's absolutely vile."

"Can't you just rip the damn thing off?" Ron demanded, outraged.

"That's brilliant Ronald, why I wish I would have thought of that a month ago!" Aberforth bit out, then relented, "the more you pull, the tighter the band squeezes."

"It's barbaric!" Professor McGonagall said fiercely. Everyone at the table looked equally appalled. Bill though, had a slightly contemplative look on his face.

"And Snape. What color is his collar?" There was a heavy pause.

"He doesn't wear a collar. His Dark Mark signifies his new elite status. Everyone without the Dark Mark is a secondary citizen of the Wizarding world now." There was another silence, this one longer as everyone digested this information. To Hermione it seemed like a bad dream. How could the structure of the world change so much, and so quickly? Everything she knew and held as law and order was gone, replaced by a barbarous caste system.

"Where is Hagrid?" Luna's soft voice asked after several minutes of lingering silence.

"He started back to Hogsmeade this morning. It took us nearly four days to get here before, and that was with me apparating. It takes him nearly twice as long."

"Hogsmeade?" George asked, frowning.

"Hagrid is collared too. They're using him mostly as labor right now to rebuild Hogwarts." That made Hermione's heart ache.

"Poor Hagrid-wait, rebuild Hogwarts?"

"Voldemort is intending to reopen the school come next term, with Snape again as the Headmaster." That comment started a flurry of comments, with everyone speaking at once, so no one heard Luna's say,

"Strange," she spoke softly, peering at her tea leaves, "the grim and the sun."


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: THIS IS VERY IMPORTANT! **I have added a scene to chapter 1. Please re-read that! Thank you. I apologize for my disorganization, and I do consider this a very serious faux pas, but alas, it needed to be done.

**Chapter 3**

"I can't believe we're actually having this conversation right now!" Hermione's voice was trill. Her and Ron had barely been married a month! How could he be talking about _that_ already? And _now_?

" 'Mione, please calm down. I hadn't even really thought about it all it, well, not until Fleur and Bill mentioned that they-" Hermione rounded on him, glaring.

"Oh, of course! _Fleur _and _Bill_ mentioned that it would be a good idea, so you just jumped on that, am I right?" Ron was puffing his cheeks angrily.

"No! Not exactly. Me and Bill were talking and he said he had news! Then they just told me Fleur was pregnant, like two months or so along." Hermione's eyes widened, Fleur was pregnant?

"When was this?"

"Just last night! They wanted to tell you too, but you went to bed early, remember?"

"Yes, Ron, I remember."

"They think it's going to be a boy. Fleur said it's too early to tell, but they want to name him Arthur if it is. Arthur "L" something or another, something French I think, I don't remember." Well, that was news. While part of Hermione was excited that she would have a little nephew (or little niece) she couldn't help thinking that given the current post-war climate, and sentiment towards blood traitors, not to mention that they were in _hiding_ still, that having a child seemed incredibly irresponsible. She told Ron as much.

"Yeah, that's what I thought at first! Having a child now would be dangerous! But you know what? Harry was born in hiding! What better way to stick it to you-know-who than to not let him dictate your life? Are we going to pause our life just 'cause we're afraid of him?" As Hermione listened to him, she wondered absently how many of the words he was saying were Bill's. He sounded just like Bill.

Bill had been a curse-breaker, for Merlin's sake. He thrived on adventure and being bold.

"Ronald, I really don't think we should have a child as an act of rebellion against Voldemort. I'd rather have a child when we're ready, not out of some misguided thought of defiance, or to 'stick it to him'." Hermione attempted to speak slowly, clearly, and sound as reasonable as possible. Ron surprised Hermione by not blowing up in anger, or stalking out of the room. Though his fists did clench, he took a deep breath before he spoke.

"Hermione, could you just think about it? Please? I know that what you said makes sense, but I feel like, like somehow, after Bill reminded me that Harry had been born in hiding too, that if we had a kid the same way, it'd almost be…"Ron trailed off, frowning, and she could tell he didn't quite know how to say what he felt, "…it'd almost be like we were honoring Harry or something. Somehow." Ron's voice wavered a bit, and she knew that he must be close to tears. Her heart clenched painfully, missing Harry all over again, and for Ron. Ron had taken Harry's death the hardest. This, more than anything made her say,

"I'll think about it, ok?" Ron's smile was as brilliant as the sun. He pulled her into his arms, hugging her tightly. "No promises, you understand? I'm just going to _think_ about it, Ron."

"That's half the battle won, right there!" Ron laughed.

The next week would have been laughable if it wasn't for how earnest Ron was. He was really dead-set on them having kids now, regardless of the danger, or how young they were. He made a point to be extra sweet. He had even tried to make her breakfast a few times. Once in awhile, at mealtimes or as they kept their senses sharp in a mock duel, she would find herself just glowering at Bill. Somehow this was all his fault. The first time he had caught her glaring he had raised a brow, inquiringly. Once Ginny had gotten Hermione to tell her what was going on, Ginny had firmly taken a neutral stance, though Hermione could tell that she wouldn't be opposed to being an Aunt. Ginny had reacted with violent enthusiasm when Bill and Fleur had told her the good news.

Another week passed. Ron got marginally better at cooking breakfast. More than being impressed that her toast was only burnt on one side, Hermione was impressed by Ron's determination. He rarely stayed so focused for so long on anything. She bit her lip. She _had_ told Ron she'd think about it. She wished she could ask Professor McGonagall for advice, but she had been gone since shortly after the wedding. Professor McGonagall had gone to Hogsmeade with Aberforth, taking Luna with her.

She was going to take the collar, and help Professor Snape at Hogwarts. The most difficult, and dangerous part, would be convincing Voldemort to allow her to live, and to teach again at Hogwarts. Luna had been unintentionally vague in her reasoning to go with the Professor, but had mentioned trying to finish her schooling, and take up assisting Professor McGonagall. Hermione couldn't remember Luna being especially good at charms, but she was a Ravenclaw, so she supposed she was probably adequately sufficient in whatever subject she attempted.

It had been a hard decision, but it was for the best. The school would be crawling with who knew what kind of teachers next term? Definitely some of them would be Death Eaters. Professor McGonagall was going to try and be a guiding light as much as she could, in these dark times, for the sake of the students.

She had almost not left, not wanting to leave Hermione, Ron, and Ginny, but Aberforth had convinced her. She had hugged Hermione fiercely when she left. She had even given her permission, teary eyed, to call her Minerva now. Hermione couldn't for the life of her imagine calling her Professor by her first name. A sharp burning on her leg brought her out of her thoughts. Her compact was burning. She pulled it from her pocket carefully and looked at the top of it.

_27-11-98_

_7:00 p.m_

_M.M_

Hermione nearly cried in relief. She could ask Professor McGonagall about what she thought about her situation with Ron! She checked her wristwatch. Three hours till seven. The time dragged by. Each time she checked her watch, only a few minutes had gone by. She growled in frustration, pacing outside under the barren oak tree. As she turned one foot slipped on a slick patch of snow. George found her cursing, face in the snow.

"Smartest witch of her age, huh? Felled by a tree root! Oh, the Daily prophet would have a field day." She wiped the already-melting snow from her cheek and glared at him. "You're getting awfully good at those glares these days, sis." George chuckled, unaffected by said glare. She rolled her eyes and stood up, brushing herself clean.

"Thank you. I've had ample reason to practice recently."

"I've noticed quite a few of those looks shooting good ol' Bill's way."

"Don't act daft. You know why."

"Of course I know why. Hard to keep a secret from me, isn't it?" He grinned, pleased with himself.

"It's not exactly a secret."

"I guess not. Though, I should impress you because I knew about it almost immediately, and I wasn't even in Wales at the time. That's impressive, come on!" George poked her in the side. Hermione gave up trying to be mad, and chuckled. It was a bit impressive that George had a knack for staying well informed of most news. He had been travelling over Britain on and off for the last month or so.

He didn't really say what he was doing, just said he was helping Aberforth out a bit. Hermione thought it a bit ironic that with Dumbledore dead, Aberforth seemed to take the reigns in leading the Order. Though it was obvious he had done so with much reluctance, and it was never as official as it had been with Dumbledore.

"You're right, it is rather impressive. You're inventions are probably spying on us all over the house." George winced.

"Now, spying is such a harsh word. I'm just keeping an eye on my family is all." George's eyes seemed to dim for a moment, and Hermione knew he was thinking of Fred.

"Thanks, George." He ruffled her mop of curls, grinning again.

"Now come on in, it's cold as a goblin's heart out here." Hermione shivered, and looked at her watch. It was five till seven.

"I'll be in in just a few minutes, okay?" George squinted at her suspiciously,

"Alrighty, then. I may eat up all Ron's stew before you get any though!" Then he went back inside the house. A minute later, her compact burned again. She opened it quickly, seeing Professor McGonagall's face peering at her.

"Good evening Hermione."

"Evening, Professor."

"Minerva," she corrected gently.

"Minerva." Hermione amended, the word feeling strange.

"We don't have nearly enough time on these things, so let me tell you quickly. You all need to come to Hogsmeade in week's time. We're meeting with Kingsley at Hog's Head. I would select a location that's safer for you, but this," Minerva lifted her neck and Hermione could see her grey collar, "currently prevents me from doing so. Aberforth and I have been unable to figure out my runes yet."

"Prof-Miverva, why do we need to come for a meeting?" Hermione was frowning; Hogsmeade was sure to be heavily warded.

"We're going to see about getting you all clemency as well. It'll be a harder sell, but if you-know-who buy's it, it'll give us more freedom, and more time to regroup the Order." Hermione nodded. It was reasonable. She felt fear flicker through her though.

"How likely is he to accept us though? We're Harry Potter's allies."

"He barely accepted me. Severus convinced him that my knowledge would be beneficial to Hogwarts. I think he'll accept you all because the thrill of having Potter's friends wear his collar, pledge their loyalty will be too hard to resist. One of His only weakness's is his arrogance." Hermione nodded.

"I'll tell them."

"Good. Be very careful coming. The wards will detect disillusionment charms and apparation. You'll have to apparate nearby and disguise yourself. Do you have any polyjuice batches on hand?"

"Only enough for three people." Minerva pursed her lips, considering this.

"Then only three of you come. There is no need to rush this, it's too dangerous to." Hermione nodded in agreement.

"Professor, there was something that I wanted to ask you about-"

"It's Minerva. Hermione ask me in a week, I'm afraid our time is up. Stay safe."

"You too Minerva. Give Luna and Hagrid my love." Minerva nodded, and disappeared from the compact, and Hermione only saw her reflection. Her reflection was wearing a pained look of disappointment. She cleared her expression, annoyed with herself, and went to join her family for dinner.

As she explained to them her conversation with Minerva, and that only three of them could go, an argument broke out. Bill demanded he go. He looked fierce, and Hermione was worried if he went he'd be unable to keep his true feelings hidden, and attempt to strike out at Voldemort. Fleur was the one who convinced him to not go, for the sake of their child. George was strangely silent, and it was decided that she, Ron and Ginny would be the ones to go. When George spoke up, his words put her ill at ease,

"And you're entirely confident the Professor McGonagall was entirely herself? That this isn't a trap?" Ginny had blown up at that point and another argument broke out, with George wearily conceding that he was being overly worrisome. When he said he'd go, he was refused. Ginny and Ron both thought he'd compromise the meeting now. Hermione couldn't help it, but a part of her, a very small part of her wondered if George wasn't right to worry. It wasn't that she didn't trust Professor McGonagall though. It was just that she knew that Voldemort was very clever, and very patient. She thought over what Aberforth and Minerva had said so far concerning Hogsmeade, Voldemort, and the collars but couldn't find anything that would make her think that there was cause to not go. She was just afraid, she decided. She shook away her misgivings and joined Ron and Ginny in their preparations to leave.

A week later they apparated to a small muggle village, which was about five miles from Hogsmeade. Disillusioning themselves, her, Ron and Ginny each stole hairs from passing muggles. Only one paused, rubbing his head, and glanced around curiously. Hermione groaned. Of course Ron would be so indelicate he'd be noticed. It was a few tense moments before the man who Ron had stolen a few hairs from walked away. She elbowed him, and he yelped, drawing a few heads to look curiously their way, but seeing nothing the muggles looked away.

"Would you guys cut it out?" Ginny hissed. Hermione was immediately contrite. They kept walking till they were clear of the village. Hidden in a thick brush of trees, the trio dropped the charms hiding themselves. Ron was glaring at his wife, and rubbing his side.

"That hurt!"

"Well maybe you should learn to be more careful! That man noticed you!"

"Oh and the muggles who noticed me after you elbowed me don't count?" He shot back, and she blushed. Ginny tugged Hermione's purse off her arm, and Hermione let her.

"Shut up Ron." He glared at her, and she sighed. He'd be mad for the rest of the day at this rate. "Look we're both in the wrong, okay? Sorry I elbowed you so hard." He huffed and nodded. That would be the closest he came to an apology for today, she knew. Ginny was ignoring both of them. She had Hermione's black beaded bag open now and was digging though it. After a moment she pulled out three vials of polyjuice.

"You love birds done?" She questioned. Hermione nodded and took one vial from Ginny, and Ron took one as well. Taking her purse from Ginny and slipping back on her shoulder, she uncorked the vial, her nose wrinkling.

"Gah, this shite reeks." Ron complained as he dropped his collected hairs in. Ginny and Hermione did the same.

"Cheers," Hermione said dryly, and gulped the potion down.

"Cheers," the siblings echoed and choked theirs down as well. Immediately Hermione felt a warm bubbling sensation racing over her skin. The pit of her stomach burned, and she felt a sharp adjusting of her bones, then heard popping and snapping. She clutched herself at the pain. She watched her arms, as the skin started to wave, then as her fingers transformed themselves before her eyes, becoming short and stubby, her nails perfectly manicured. The burning faded to comfortable warmth, and she glanced up at Ginny and Ron.

Only it was the muggle man from before, medium build with a blonde beard. Ginny finished her transformation, and became a tall, slender Asian girl, her hair a short pixie cut. Hermione nodded in approval, looking over their forms.

"Ready?" She asked.

"Ready." The blonde Ron answered, and then they all started walking towards Hogsmeade. It didn't take long, and Hermione checked her watch. They had fifteen minutes before the set meeting time. As they entered the village Hermione could feel the tingling of the wards across her skin. No alarm sounded and she had to force herself not to let out a telling sigh of relief. The Asian-Ginny walked stiffly beside her, and Hermione knew she had felt the wards as well. Walking through the town towards the bar was disconcerting. Everything looked exactly the same, down to the enchanted candles hanging in the trees, and the holly wreaths hanging on the thatched buildings. The shops were completely unscathed. People were milling about, shopping for Christmas presents.

It was almost as if they were in Hogsmeade just enjoying the weekend. Except there were no students. Hogwarts was still closed, so there were no students running around, no high laughter of young girls, or rowdy laughter of 1st and 2nd years. There were a few local kids about, but it wasn't the same. And every single person was wearing a collar. Most were in grey collars, but some were in red ones, some in brown ones, and a few were covered in different runes. They were beginning to get a few odd looks, and it took Hermione a second to figure out why. She stopped walking and pulled Ginny and Ron into a side street.

"What's wrong?" Ginny asked.

"We're not wearing collars. It's suspicious. We need to transfigure some for ourselves."

"They are different colored ones…we don't know what they all mean." Ginny said softly.

"Should we just wear a grey one? Like Aberforth?" Ron asked. Hermione bit her lip, trying to recall what he had said about his. That his marked him as a half-blood and a traitor. Professor McGonagall's had been grey with runes as well.

"Plain grey collars, no runes." Hermione decided. It took only a few seconds for Hermione to find something adequate to transfigure form her purse, then they were on their way again to Hog's head. They only had a few minutes before they were to meet.

Hog's Head was warm, a nice change from the December cold. They took a seat in the back of the bar, in a corner. Hermione wondered if they were supposed to somehow signal their presence. She didn't see Aberforth or Minerva. Several more minutes went by. Ginny was sipping at a Butterbeer she ordered nervously.

The door opened, and in a gust of cold wind walked in Kingsley Shacklebot. He was wearing a red collar, with runes. Maneuvering around some tables he walked up a set of stairs at the side of he bar, disappearing as quickly as he came in.

"We should follow him." Ron whispered.

"Professor McGonagall said we were supposed to be meeting him, right?" Ginny asked. Hermione nodded.

"Ok, let's go up. Be careful." The trio carefully, and casually as possible ascended the stairs. All the doors upstairs were closed, except one at the end of the hallway, which was ajar. The floorboards creaked as she tiptoed over to it. Hermione peered into the room, and let out a huge sigh. Hagrid, Kingsley, Minerva, Aberforth, and Luna were seated inside. Professor McGonagall was looking anxious. Hermione knocked on the door. The occupants of the room all looked up, alert.

The door swung open, and Aberforth peered at them. Hermione held up her compact.

"Tell me something only _you_ would know." He demanded.

"You hate the fact that you also love lemon drops to distraction." Was the first thing that came out her mouth. Aberforth glared but nodded,

"Come on in, you lot. We were beginning to wonder if sending Kingsley in late would be enough of a signal."

The trio took a seat on an empty sofa. Luna Lovegood was sitting by the fire; her cocked her head to the side, staring at the flames. Hermione noticed her red collar. Voldemort must have accepted her.

"What does the red collar mean?" She asked, distracted.

Kingsley was the one who answered,

"It's a marker of a pure-blood," his voice was deep and smooth, "its another form of propaganda. Control, prejudice, and hate make Voldemort even stronger." Hermione thought back to the collars she'd seen walking here,

"So, red for purebloods, grey for half-bloods, then the brown must be" she paused, growing angry, "for muggleborns." Kingsley gave her a sympathetic look, and nodded.

"That's so disgusting and bigoted," she spat. Ron gripped her hand, calmingly

"Ms. Granger—pardon me, Mrs. Weasley-"there was the hint of mockery, "if you could spare us your indignation, we could get down to business." The voice was silky smooth, perfectly enunciated. She looked up and saw Professor Snape in the corner, hidden in the shadows. He stepped forward, and took a seat in an armchair farthest from the group as possible, his hand holding a glass of amber liquid. Hermione ignored his snarky words, too overjoyed to see him. She smiled at him and he looked visibly taken aback.

"You are perfectly right to be indignant Hermione, please don't mind Severus." Minerva said gently. Hermione nodded, and eyes still locked with Professor Snape's, said,

"I'm glad you're alive. Thank you so much for everything you've done." The potions master's eyes widened for a moment then he sneered,

"Don't get so sentimental, Mrs. Weasley. It's not like I did anything for you."

"I know, but Harry isn't here to thank you, is he?" Professor Snape glared at her, and she looked away.

"Yes, let's get down to business."

SSSSSSSS

**AN**: In case you missed the notice at the top, **PLEASE RE-READ** the **NEW **scene in **CHAPTER 1**!


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

By the time the meeting was over, Hermione was tired, and more than a little nervous. They had decided on waiting to petition Voldemort until the day after tomorrow. _Petition._

The word, applied to him, did not settle well. It suggested a sense of procedure, and due process, and worse, his absolute authority. He held the Wizarding world in the palm of his hand. During the meeting Kingsley had mentioned whispers in the Ministry of Magic, whispers of Voldemort's ambitions to next take over Germany and France. Kingsley still worked at the ministry, in the Auror department. It was just the management and objectives that had changed. A very particular feature of the collars was that they disabled the ability of the wearer to harm any bearer of the Dark Mark. Every head of every department was now a Death Eater.

Ron had been skeptical. At Minerva's prodding, Snape had stood, and slowly, nodded once at Kingsley. Kingsley, as fast as a whip threw out a curse in a flash of yellow at Professor Snape. The curse didn't rebound; it simply dissolved, as Kingsley's collar glowed. Kingsley had bent over in pain, and took a full minute to recover. Hermione knew her mouth had been agape. How were they to have any hope of fighting back after they had clemency, if they couldn't attack? She voiced her concerns.

Aberforth said that the same temporary reversals he had put on his and Hagrid's collars to suspend the collar's tracking features, could, hypothetically disable the ability to prevent harm to those with the Dark Mark. They were still working on that apparently.

The most important thing for them was to come out of hiding, beg forgiveness, get collared, and rally up for the Order people willing to go against the new regime. Getting people was hard when they were warm and fed, with essentially their same freedoms as before (albeit with an awful, unfair caste system segregating them), when those in the Order were hiding, with limited resources, and the threat of death over their heads. Racism and discrimination seemed infinitely easier to deal with than the potential of torture and death.

Hermione could see the rationale in getting some of the order members collared. Lulling Voldemort into a false sense of security, and then being able to strike hard and fast from the inside. She was still uneasy. As everyone left the room, Professor McGonagall asked Hermione to wait. She told Ron to go to bed, wherever Aberforth was rooming them for the night, and he nodded, sleepy.

Minerva took a chair by the fire, and Hermione sat across from her.

"A week ago, you said there was something you had wanted to ask me? We have all the time in the world now." There was a brief, comfortable silence.

"I feel like what I was going to ask you seems so silly now, after everything we've all been discussing for the last few hours." Hermione admitted, watching the flickering of the flames.

"Just because we've lost the war, that doesn't mean that's the only thing of importance to talk about."

"Ron-" she blushed fiercely, "Ron wants to have children. Now. During all of this." Minerva's eyes widened.

"Oh."

"I told him it's entirely irresponsible, and dangerous!" Hermione added, quickly.

"Do you want children?"

"I….yes, of course I want children. Just, I don't think this is the time."

"When would be the right time?" Minerva asked gently. Hermione huffed,

"Well, definitely when Voldemort isn't in charge. When the threat of death isn't imminent. I wouldn't want my child to be born into a world of Death Eaters and prejudice," Hermione paused, "I'd want her, or him, be feel safe, loved, and to know that regardless of their blood that they're precious."

"I think that's a perfectly good reason to not have children now. Though, Hermione, I must say this: It is possible that we will never win. That Voldemort will stay in power. Would you deny Ron the right to be a father because you fear the world your child would be born into? Especially knowing that Ron seems confident enough to face this world, with you, for any child you would have now?" Hermione felt her confidence slip, and guilt creep up on her. Was it possible that she was being selfish in this?

Fleur and Bill were having a child. They seemed happy, and confident about it. Harry's parents had had him during a perilous time. Was she just being a coward? She bit her lip. She truly wanted to have children, but only when she knew they'd be safe, and loved. Yet, could she ever fully guarantee their safety? Even if Voldemort were gone, dangers would still exist. They would be loved though, so much. Perhaps enough to let them know that despite the world they were raised in that blood purity did not reflect character, or worth. She imagined a little red haired girl, with her eyes, and Ron's smile. Perhaps they'd name her Rose, after her grandmother. She felt her heart warm. She looked up at Minerva, who wore a soft smile, and Hermione knew she had her answer.

"You're right. This isn't just my decision. It's Ron's too, I can't deny him that."

"You're a brave girl Hermione." Hermione squeezed Minerva's hand,

"Thank you." The older woman nodded. "Would you mind?" Hermione asked, holding up her left hand, where her wedding band was.

"Fertility charm?" Minerva asked. Hermione nodded. Minerva took Hermione's ring and cast a few spells on it, a few of which seemed familiar and standard, the last one Hermione had never heard before.

"What was that last one you cast?" Hermione asked as she slipped the gold band back on her finger. It was still warm with magic. Minerva's lips formed a thin line, and then she chuckled,

"Oh, I am certainly dating myself aren't I? When I use charms young witches don't recognize?"

"An older fertility charm?" Minerva nodded,

"It's a bit old hat, but in my day with Grindelwald it became a bit second nature to begin to cast this particular charm on wedded couples, it's-"

"Minerva." Snapes voice interrupted her.

"Severus?" Minerva's browns were drawn, "is something wrong?" She stood and walked to the door where he stood, half in shadows. There was a quick exchange of whispers. Professor McGonagall squeezed Severus Snape's hand, and nodded. The Potions master turned and left in a billow of robes. Minerva came back to sit across from her, looking pale. Then she looked at Hermione,

"No matter what happens, you must swear to continue to trust Severus. Do you understand? No matter what." Hermione nodded. She thought she had made it clear before than her belief of Snape's loyalty was not in question. She frowned,

"Is everything alright, professor?" Minerva nodded, her face tight.

"You should go get some sleep, child. It's been a long day." Hermione bid her former House Head goodnight, nerves on edge. By the time she found the room Ron was in, he was sound asleep, snoring softly. She changed and cuddled up next to him. After a moment of hesitation, and feeling a little silly for doing so, Hermione cast one of the most powerful defensive wards that she knew on their room. No one would be able to get in. It still took her a long time to fall asleep. She was too worried, too many senses on red alert.

When sleep did finally take her, dawn had begun to turn the sky a pale blue, and her dreams were far from restful. She dreamt of the battle. She was dreaming of being again in the great hall, of spells being cast left and right, and there was screaming and blood, so much blood. She was cradling a 5th year Hufflepuff girl in her arms, the girl had a cutting curse cast on her, and she was bleeding out, and her screaming was deafening. She wouldn't stop screaming, no matter what counter-spell Hermione attempted on her. Blood was covering Hermione's hands, and the girl's screams were growing louder.

Hermione jolted out of bed, and still heard the screaming. It was real. The ear-piercing cries weren't a nightmare. She shook Ron awake, and he came to quickly, seeing the panic on her face, and hearing the screams. She pulled her wand from beneath her pillow and yanking on some clothes, quickly tore down the ward she had set the previous night and rushed into the hallway, Ron hot on her heels. The hallway was empty. There was a brief silence, where all she could hear was her heart and Ron's breathing.

"Alohamora." She whispered on the first door she passed, it was empty. Every room they opened upstairs was empty. The screaming began again, followed by harsh laughter than set Hermione's heart beating faster. As they approached the stairs, the screaming became a recognizable voice as it panted out, raspy,

"P-please, stop. Please, no m-more." It was Luna, "we brought them here for you, like the Dark Lord asked. They're upstairs." Hermione paused, not believing her ears. It couldn't be. Luna wasn't betraying them. This had to be a ploy. Some elaborate scheme.

"It's true, the girl has delivered." It was Snape's voice, silky, sounding bored.

"Oh, I know. I was just seeing how long it would take the 'Chosen's One's' friends to come storming down the stairs, at some attempt at rescue. That ward the mudblood set was rather vexatious." This voice was also familiar. She furrowed her brows. Whose voice was that? "Perhaps they need some more encouragement."

"Are you admitting a mudblood's wards were too difficult for you to take down? The Dark Lord would not be pleased." Snape replied.

A fresh round of screams started, the pitch different. It was Ginny.

"Hermione what are we waiting for? They know we're here, and they have Ginny! Let's go down!" Ron urged, fury lining his voice. She gripped her wand tightly. Nothing was coming to her, no clever ideas. Well, just one stupid idea…

"Give me your wand, Ron."

"What?"

"Just give me your wand!" She cast a disillusionment charm on Ron's wand and pressed it into her back pocket. She then transfigured her pocket watch into a fake wand, handing it to Ron. "This is your wand now. You need to act like it's real. Yell curses, ok?" Ron nodded. "We're going to rush down there now, understand?" Then they darted down the stairs, Ron yelling curses, Hermione sending the ones he yelled, whispering. They managed to stun two Death Eaters.

Her and Ron were both disarmed in less than five minutes. They were both panting.

The main room at Hog's head was a mess. Tables were broken, or knocked over everywhere, bottles broken. There must have been a fight. Hermione frowned. Then she saw a trail of blood, and Aberforth's crumpled body.

He was covered in bruises and blood. She couldn't tell if he was alive or not. Then what caught Hermione's eye was the man holding her and Ron's wand. Lucius Malfoy. There were three other Death Eaters with him, not including those passed out still by the stairs. One looked vaguely familiar.

"Look what we have here. The blood traitor and his muddy bride." Lucius laughed, the sound was grating, and cruel. Ginny was huddled by Luna a few feet from him. Her face was stained with tears. Severus Snape stood at the bar, staring at her, his face blank. Hermione's mind was racing. What could she do?

Her mind clicked on the portkey in her bag. It would take them to the house in Wales. How could she get to it? All while keeping Ron, Ginny and Luna safe? It was a time-activated portkey. Timed to set at a moment of need. She had thought that she had been particularly clever in creating it. But how to get to it? Her eyes snapped to Snape's. She thought she could see flair of acknowledgment in his eyes. She couldn't be sure though, it was gone so fast.

"What do you want, _Malfoy_?" She asked with as much confidence she could muster.

"I'd watch my tone if I were you, mudblood," he spat.

"That's my wife you're talking to!" Ron yelled.

"I think that's been established, Weasley." Snape commented, dryly.

"YOU! Filthy bastard! You betrayed us! Right when we started to trust you!" Ron roared. Hermione hid a wince. She was fairly confident that Snape was as loyal as ever. Snape seemed unaffected by Ron's words. He merely turned to Malfoy,

"I'm going to re-check the rooms. It's a bit-loud-down here." And he ascended the stairs without another word. Lucuis laughed,

"Poor Weasley, did you think that Severus was on your side?" He stepped closer, pressing his wand into Ron's chest, "did you think that he was going to help the Order's misguided attempt at overthrowing the Dark Lord?" Ron's eyes went wide, "oh yes, we knew all about that. Gain the Dark Lord's trust, and then try to destroy him from the inside." Lucius tsked, "and pray tell, how did you think that you'd be able to get away with _lying_ to the world's best Legilimens? Foolish." Hermione paused at his words. How had that never once occurred to her? Surely it would have occurred to Aberforth, or Minerva. Something seemed off.

Snape was coming back down the stairs, "there is nothing of interest in their rooms." Hermione met his eyes, trying to find a clue as to what her next move was suppose to be. She wished she were a Legilimens. He gave her not a single hint, his eyes bored, face composed. He didn't do anything. She realized he couldn't. Not until there was a distraction. He couldn't risk his cover. His eyes flicked to hers again, with the same flair as before, and she knew she had guessed correctly. It was up to her. She knew he would not overtly help her.

Hermione had Ron's wand hidden still in her pocket. She would be able to get out one, maybe two spells at most, before someone disarmed her. They'd have to count. Be distracting.

She only had one idea.

It would be dangerous, and she had never actually cast it before.

It was Dark Magic, so she'd have zero control over it. She glanced at Aberforth's crumpled body, at Luna and Ginny's huddled forms. She refused to look at Snape, to see his reaction to her thoughts.

"Nothing? How dull." Lucius responded walking back towards Ginny and Luna, a cruel look on his face.

"Trust me." Hermione whispered at Ron. He looked confused, but nodded.

She grabbed the disillusioned wand from her back pocket cast a silent hex at Lucius Malfoy that threw him back into the wall, and then yelled, "Fiendfyre!" There was a mere split second when Lucius's head snapped back up to her, eyes wide in fear, before a roaring, billowing noise began, and a scorching hot fire burst from Ron's wand. The fire caught on the robe's of one death eater, and they began to scream. Chaos ensued as the flames grew. Hermione felt a tingling on her wrist. There was a watch there now. It was the portkey. She sent Snape a grateful look, but he was gone, obscured by the flames. She ripped it from her wrist and forced it into Ron's hand, "take this and gather up Aberforth and Luna and Ginny!" Ron took it, and grasped her arm,

"You're coming with me!"

"In a minute! I have to get rid of this!" She gestured to the wand; it was taking a massive amount of energy to keep the flames in one direction. She growled out, "GO!" Ron ran to Aberforth, and yelled at the girls to come to him, and they did, Luna limping. Lucius was shouting above the roar of the fire,

"I will KILL you, you FLITHY mudblood! You hear me?" A column of fire separated her from him. She threw the wand away from her, into the flames. There was no point trying and extinguishing the flow of fire. She didn't have the experience with the dark arts to even know where to begin. She felt a tug at her wrist. It was Ginny,

"Come ON!" She and Ginny began to quickly, and carefully as possible, dart around the smoldering room, coughing on the smoke.

She could see Ron barely through the thick black smoke, his blue eyes panicked until they met hers. He was holding Aberforth's limp body, Luna clasped at his side. His hand was stretched out towards hers. There was an ominous sound of cracking, and Hermione feared the roof was about to collapse. Ron was yelling now, but she couldn't make out his words, and just a second before her fingers would have brushed his, he disappeared. The portkey had activated, and they were gone. She felt terrified. What was she suppose to do now? Then she felt relieved. At least Ron would live. She didn't want to burn to death though. She could barely see in front of her. Ginny's hand was still tight in hers. They'd die together, it seemed.

"Stupid girl!" She thought she heard hissed from behind her, but it was so loud. Then, the fire was receding, the smoke curling in on itself, growing smaller, and smaller, until only the destruction was evidence that there had been a fire.

She looked at Ginny, she was covered in soot, coughing. A rough grip was pulling on her arm. It was Severus Snape, and he looked livid. He said nothing though, just dragged her and Ginny behind him until they were outside, and the fresh air was like balm to her tortured lungs. She felt a flaring pain in her jaw, as her face was jerked to the side. She looked up, dazed. Lucius Malfoy stood before her, seething in rage. She noted he looked a little scorched.

She touched her jaw where he'd just hit her, and winced. Her fingers came away bloody.

"Resorting to muggle methods?" She taunted. He stepped forward, and was about to curse her, his wand drawn when Professor Snape stood in between them.

"Calm yourself Lucius. She's just a mudblood. The Dark Lord is calling, let us return." Lucius turned his glare on Snape, and then his hand went to his arm, pulling up his sleeve to reveal the Dark Mark. It was pulsating. "She's killed two of his servants today. He won't be pleased with her." Severus added. That seemed to please Lucius and he visibly calmed.

"Yes, we must not keep our Lord waiting." Snape took Hermione in his grip, and Lucius roughly took Ginny in his, and with a snap they apparated.

**AN**: Please read and review!


	5. Chapter 5

AN: **WARNING **this chapter contains violence, and **very adult themes**. I would not recommend reading if you are easily offended. Seriously.

**Chapter 5 **

They apparated into a forest, and a cold wind was whipping the bare branches, sending swirls of snow through the trees. Nausea overtook Hermione. Pulling away from Professor Snape, she vomited. It was foul, tasting of ash. Her throat burned, and for a minute she couldn't stop coughing.

"For the love of Merlin." Snape bit out, and a cool, tingling charm rushed over her throat, and her mouth, leaving it feeling refreshed, and clean. Hermione whispered her thanks, which he ignored. Hermione shivered, the cold wind seeping through the thin material of her long-sleeved shirt. Hermione looked up, and saw Ginny and Lucius a dozen or so feet away, Ginny too, it seemed was recovering, bent over.

She doubted Lucius would be as helpful in her recovery. Lucius was already pushing Ginny forward with his wand, ignoring her coughing. "When we are in the presence of the Dark Lord, keep your eyes down. Do you understand?" Snape whispered fiercely, before he tugged her roughly to walk before him. She glanced at Ginny apprehensively as they began to walk.

They cleared the forest, coming to a tall, imposing grey wall. It had to be twelve feet tall. Walking along it, they came to a wrought iron gate. It was ornate, with snakes, _always snakes_, wrapped around the bars, like a lock.

Lucius Malfoy drew his wand across his Dark Mark, and as his mark began to ripple, the snake barring the gate unclenched it's jaws from it's own body and slithered open, and the gates unlocked without a creak. Looming before them, up a graveled drive way was a large, daunting Manor, covered in ivy so dark it almost looked black.

She thought for a moment it was the Malfoy Manor, but this manor was larger. Perhaps it was another mansion belonging to the Malfoy's? When they reached the double doors of the manor, Hermione's fear immobilized her. She was about to come face to face with the darkest wizard in known history, darker than Grindelwald. She was pushed forward, and her knees locked, so she fell forward.

Lucius laughed, and Ginny was at her side, helping her up. Ginny was pale.

Ginny must be just as scared as she was, Hermione needed to stop acting like a coward. Hermione stood up, and to her credit didn't shake.

"Thanks Ginny," Hermione whispered, her eyes locking on the red head girl's, conveying more than her words could. Ginny nodded, and held her hand. They were again prodded forward, with Lucius taunting,

"Not so brave now, are we mudblood?"

The house was beautiful, as they entered some part of her mind noted the lush carpet, and expensive looking marble. A blur of paintings, and silver, and mirrors later, they were taken to a cellar. They were tossed into a small cell, a single cot with a threadbare blanket, a suspicious looking bucket in the corner.

A moment later, or it could have been an hour later, Hermione heard someone coming down the steps. Or perhaps it's better to say she felt someone coming down. The magic she felt was humbling, humming in the air with suppressed power. There was an unnatural hush to the air. Professor Snape and Lucius kneeled. Hermione remembered Snape's words a split second before Voldemort's black robes came into view, casting her eyes downwards. She pinched Ginny to do the same.

"Rise, my servants." His voice was hauntingly smooth. She heard the two men rise to their feet. "Tell me, what happened at Hog's Head." Hermione realized she was trembling.

"We captured the mudblood, and blood traitor, my lord." Lucius simpered.

"Severus?" Voldemort queried.

"Three managed to escape, my Lord. Through portkey, it would seem."

"Portkey? How convenient." The dark lord hissed. "How is it that my best Death Eaters were incapable of following an exceedingly simple order?"

Lucius answered, his voice thick with repressed anger, "the mudblood, my lord, she cast fiendfyre. It was rather….distracting. Please forgive me for failing you." There was a soft exhale, a hiss of amusement.

"Potter's golden girl using dark magic? How delightful." There was a grunt of pain, "let that remind you Lucius, I do not take kindly to failure-or omissions."

"Yes, my Lord." Lucius panted. "The mudblood managed to kill two of your followers before Severus gained control of the fiendfyre."

"Who?" The word was spoken softly.

"Gallagher and Floyd." Lucius's screams filled the small cellar for a moment.

"You were not at all proficient in guiding the new recruits, Lucius. I find myself disappointed."

"Forgive me my Lord," he groveled.

"It was rather abrupt, my Lord, I myself barely had time to contain the flames." Professor Snape stated, his voice in a dispassionate tone.

"Show me," the Dark Lord demanded, and for a minute there was only the sound of Lucius's labored breathing. "I see." Hermione thought he must have entered into one of the men's memories. She dared to raise her eyes off the floor of her cell. Not too much, just enough to see the men's robes. Snape's black robes she recognized.

Even Malfoy's silver cane was familiar.

What struck her as unbearably odd was that the third man was barefoot. She could see a flash of slender, delicate pale feet when he moved. She was looking at Voldemort's feet. They were remarkably normal. She supposed she would have thought them to be covered in scales, or something.

"I'm feeling forgiving, Lucius. I will allow you to take your revenge. You may choose one of the girls."

"Thank you, my Lord." The way his voice caressed over his words made Hermione sick. She had no doubt whom he would choose for his revenge.

"Severus, you will take care of the recruits henceforth. Lucius is clearly incapable."

"My Lord." Professor Snape acknowledged. Hermione saw him shift, and knew he must be bowing in assent. Hermione had no more time for observations then, because Lucius was in front of her now. Her eyes met his, and she felt an icy hand of fear lick down her spine at the look of cruelty on his face. She refused to show it, and glared at him.

"I will break you, you filthy worm! You will beg me for death!" Hermione bit her tongue to hold back a whimper that was rising up in her throat. She couldn't give Lucius the satisfaction of any power over her.

"Do your worst. If you're not incapable." Hermione knew she was playing with fire, using Voldemort's very words to taunt Malfoy's father with with. A hiss of amusement from behind Lucius froze Hermione and Lucius's face tightened at the sound.

"Now Lucius, are you going to let a mudblood get the best of you?" At his Lord's prompting, the pureblood let out a round of curses on her. The ripping agony of the first curse tore through her, it felt like needles sewing through her skin, through her muscles; she bit her tongue to hold back her whimpers. Blood filled her mouth, and she couldn't hold it back any longer and she screamed.

The second curse set boils burning across her skin, bursting blood, and burning as if lit by fiendfyre. Her voice had gone hoarse from screaming. She was panting, and knew she was covered in tears and blood. She needed to be stronger. _She couldn't break, she couldn't break. _The words were repeated like a mantra, she clung to them through the white-hot waves of pain, as each new curse crumpled her.

"Enough," Voldemort commanded, voice bored. The curse was lifted from her and she curled in on herself, closing her eyes. She felt Ginny hovering over her. She touched her gently, and Hermione hissed, unable to take the briefest pressure against her abused skin. Hot liquid was seeping down her face. She wondered if it were blood or tears.

"Bastard, "she whispered, her voice cracking.

"My Lord, I-"

"She needs to be alive for the revel tomorrow Lucius."

"Yes, my Lord."

"Severus, do make sure that she doesn't die before we can have our fun with her." There was a faint sound of the cane against the cobblestone ground, and a soft swish of robes. Lucius and Voldemort must have gone.

She felt Professor Snape's presence beside her almost immediately. It was surprisingly comforting.

"Will she be okay?" She heard Ginny cry.

"Yes. Now, silence." Snape began to whisper, his words low, and she focused on the hum of his voice. She felt her body warm, and she moaned, as a sharp pain made her tremble. "Ms. Granger, you're doing very good. Now just rest." She felt herself being floated over to the thin cot. Before another thought could be fully formed, she was asleep.

_One day later_

She kept having the worst nightmares. She had told Ron that she should stop drinking Mint-sparrow before bed. It ensured a full night of sleep, and generally without dreams, and unlike the Dreamless-sleep potion, was non-addictive. The only negative side affect was the rare dream. About once a month, she'd wake up shaking from a nightmare that seemed too real. She rarely drank it nowadays and only when the memories of the war kept her awake.

She shifted, uncomfortable.

Hermione, by far had just experienced the worst nightmare. Her and Ginny had been captured by Voldemort's followers, tortured by Lucius Malfoy, and were forced to stand before a crowd of jeering Death Eaters. She became aware of a throbbing in her head. Her cheek was cold, against something hard.

Her fingers twitched, touching something wet. She opened her eyes, groaning. The light was subdued, but she could see the faint veins in the marble beneath her cheek. She looked beside her, at the small pool of liquid she had touched. The dark color was familiar and unmistakable. Blood, why was there blood beside her? As she tried to sit up, a wave of dizziness overcame her. It was then that she heard the laughter. The high pitched, cackling behind her. Bellatrix Lestrange. Her eyes grew wide in terror; this was no nightmare brought about by Mint-sparrow, this was very real. The crowd laughed, and she heard some of the calls louder than the others,

"She's about to piss herself!"

"Bellatrix got her good!"

"Mudblood scum!"

The crowd again silenced, and she heard the soft hush of robes behind her, "now, Bella. Did I give you permission to touch her?" Voldemort scolded, as if Bellatrix were a naughty dog.

"Forgive me my Lord, but she just had no right! No right to look upon you." Bellatrix's voice sounded sickeningly caressing.

"I decide every right she has." Hermione shivered. She flinched when she felt his hand touching the top of her head, resting atop her curls. Her body was wound tight, expecting another curse. "Bella, go play with the blood traitor." Bellatrix glared down at Hermione for a moment, and then she shot to obey, grinning feverishly at the prospect of torture. Ginny's sobs of agony were immediate, but soon drowned out by the sound of laughter.

Hermione moved to go to her, instinctively, and was pulled back by a sharp grip in her hair. "You will not move, if you wish your friend to live." Voldemort snarled. Hermione froze, and nodded fractionally. "Very good. Rodolphus, bring in our other _guest_."

"Yes, master." Hermione couldn't see who spoke, but a minute later heard a very familiar voice.

"Yer bastards! Where ya taking me?" It was a booming voice, and Hermione's heart dropped. _No, please, god, no._ "Hermione? HERMIONE!" She closed her eyes, weary. It was Hagrid. "Ginny! What're ye doing here? NOO!"

"Rodolphus, teach that oaf respect." She heard a heavy thump, and then Hagrid cursing, him yelling in outrage, even as she heard the Death Eater cast a Crucio. "I can feel how my touch repulses you." Voldemort whispered to her. Hermione tried not to tremble, but couldn't control it; the panic was choking her. "After your perseverance with Lucius I had thought to break you myself," he paused, his pale head tilted to the side, "as I am far more _capable_ than he is." Hermione lifted her chin; she'd not be intimidated.

"What do you intend to do with us?"

"Oh, I am going to break you. Every one of you." He promised, his red eyes lighting up with a sinister gleam. He brought out his wand, tracing the side of her face with it. She shuddered. She felt her clothes disappear from her body, and gasped. The crowd jeered even louder. Hot tears filled her eyes. She had never been so exposed in her life. "You know how I'm going to break you, mudblood?" Voldemort asked her, gripping her hair and tilting her head back, to look at him.

"You are despicable," she bit out, anger and shame boosting her courage. Voldemort didn't lash out. A cruel smile took his lips. That more than anything frightened her. She felt her courage shriveling up.

"I'm going to fuck you, as your friends are tortured. Their blood is going to be running in rivulets across the marble, and you're going to be screaming, in pleasure, like a dirty mudblood slut." He said everything so evenly, like he was speaking of dinner plans, so matter of fact. Hermione choked on a sob. He couldn't be serious. That was too cruel, too vile. She felt his cold fingers running along her naked spine and flinched, pulling away. "What did I say about moving, mudblood?" He asked, his voice soft, too soft. She held still. "Very good, you _can_ learn."

"Please…" she started, pointlessly. What was she going to say? What words could dissuade the Dark Lord from this humiliation?

"I did say you were going to derive pleasure didn't I? So many would consider this an honor." Hermione began to cry, soft sobs shaking her body, as his pale hand caressed her breast. She felt a tingling of magic on her abdomen, and vaguely recognized it as a contraceptive spell. Another spell must have been cast, because she felt her body abruptly alight in arousal. He pinched her nipple and she whimpered. She felt pleasure and disgust warring inside of her.

It was too her everlasting shame, that as Ginny and Hagrid's blood was covering the marble floors of the amphitheater, the Dark Lord's words came to pass, as she screamed out in ecstasy as he raped her.


	6. Chapter 6

**AN: **

**I am proving to be disorganized. I apologize. **Yesterday, this chapter was originally published. I took it down barely twenty minutes later. I was very dissatisfied with this chapter. I do promise that in the future I will not take down and put back up a chapter like that again. That being said, chapters will probably not be updated nearly daily anymore. I was far too hasty, and anxious to publish this chapter that I released it knowing (on some level) that it wasn't as it should be.

I use a direct quote from J.K Rowling in this chapter too! It should be pretty easy to spot.

**Oh, and thank you!**

I would like to thank those of you who have taken a moment to review the story. The reviews have been well thought-out, and are _very _much appreciated. It's incredibly nice to be acknowledged, and to know that there are people who are reading, and enjoying, my story.

Well, let's get to it.

Again, a **warning** must be placed. Dirty, adult themes abound.

**Chapter Six**

Her body was a limp, sated, bundle of flesh and nerves. Voldemort had pounded into her body, intense, and demanding, but as promised, it had been so very pleasurable. She barely registered it when Voldemort was no longer pressed against her back. He unclenched his hands from her hips and she fell forward, limbs weak. She saw him through her half-slit eyes slip himself back into his robes. A roar went through the crowd, and Hermione saw one of the Death Eaters by Voldemort's side eye her naked body with lusty eyes. She was vaguely aware that Ginny and Hagrid's screaming had stopped.

She crossed her arms over herself, feeling filthy. She was disgusted with herself, disgusted that her body was still tingling in the aftermath of her pleasure. Hermione had never felt so violated, had never been so completely helpless. She felt raw, and exposed, and too tired to cry. Bone weariness settled on her, and she curled into herself on the marble floor. The Death Eater by Voldemort's side licked his lips, and Hermione felt a lead weight on her heart, suffocating her. Was this to be her fate? To be passed around and whored?

She didn't want to look up, and see the horror and disgust she knew must be on Hagrid and Ginny's faces. _They had been tortured, as she had moaned out her indescribable pleasure._

"No, not tonight Avery. I believe you would distract her from her thoughts," Voldemort spoke to the Death Eater whose eyes were raking over her body. The Death Eater, Avery, looked frustrated, but didn't protest. "Take the mudblood and our other guests back to the cellar." An unfamiliar Death Eater gripped her by the elbow and pulled her roughly to her feet. As she stood, she felt herself dripping, liquid seeping down her legs, onto the floor. Voldemort's essence was covering her. Hermione gagged. The Death Eater jerked her along, and mocked,

"Our last _guest _had to lick up their vomit. I'd keep my teeth clenched if I were you." Hermione clenched her teeth together, fighting the instinct to retch.

* * *

><p>A week passed, or maybe more. They were days of hell. She had not been raped again. She had not been tortured. Hermione was left in a cell completely alone, in the pitch black. It was a very delicate, very sophisticated form of torture. A part of Hermione understood what Voldemort was doing; a tiny logical part of her cried out that he was manipulating her, that he was a master of psychological abuse. She ignored it, and succumbed.<p>

She had seen it in Ginny and Hagrid's eyes. Their repulsion. They had heard her being taken by Voldemort, they had _seen_ her. Hagrid had tried to lay a hand on her as they were led from the gathering, and Hermione had jerked back. Ginny had been angry. Hermione could tell, in the way the girl pressed her lips together, and didn't meet her eyes. Ginny's face was badly bruised, covered in hundreds of little cuts, and she was barely able to walk. Before any words could be exchanged, Hermione was forced away from Ginny and Hagrid, into a solitary cell.

Ginny's eyes had met hers for a moment, her eyes pained, and then Ginny and Hagrid had been led away.

In her own private darkness, Hermione's mind kept torturing her with images of Ron's face. Of his goofy, lovable smile. Hermione knew it had been rape, that Voldemort had cast a charm on her to experience heightened pleasure, but she still felt like she had betrayed Ron since she had-compelled by magic or not- felt physically gratified.

The soft clicking of her cell door opening broke Hermione from her dismal, cyclical thoughts. She'd seen no one in days. A meager ration of bread and weak juice simply appeared over the course of a day, the soft pop of its appearance her only sign, and it disappeared after she nibbled on it.

She had found a bucket in the corner of the cell where she was forced to perform her bodily absolutions. She stared towards the door with a strange mixture of apprehension and apathy.

She thought Lucius would be paying her a visit, or that Death Eater, Avery. Some part of her even wanted them too, felt that she deserved punishment. As the door opened, the light of a lumos was overwhelming to her eyes, and she cried out, turning from it. She slowly, painfully, opened her eyes a mere sliver.

Professor Snape stood before her, brightly illuminated. He dimmed his wand, and she found after a moment of her eyes adjusting, she could bear the light.

Professor Snape closed the door behind him with a wave of his hand. He was peering down his large nose at her, like she was a specimen to be studied. Somewhere inside her she felt the flickering of anger, then her apathy took over again. She merely looked at Snape, her eyes dull.

"Not done feeling sorry for yourself yet, Ms. Granger?" His voice was cutting.

"What would you know?" She asked, looking away.

"I know for someone called the smartest witch of her age you are being insufferably stupid." Embers of anger deep within her began to flicker to life.

"How _dare_ you?" Hermione exclaimed.

"Oh, yes, how _dare_ I not coddle you, and sympathize with your plight," Snape sneered. "You have not the faintest idea how much the Dark Lord is simply playing with you at the moment. He has been exceeding mild." Hermione stood, glaring up at Snape.

"Were you there?" She demanded, "did you see what he did to me?" Hermione unconsciously wrapped her arms around herself.

"Yes, I saw." Hermione's eyes flickered back to the potion master's, and felt another layer of humiliation being laid upon her, knowing that he had seen her like that. Severus exhaled sharply, "I am not saying that what you went through was not a violation of your person." There was a pause, and then he said quietly, "It inarguably was."

Hermione frowned at him, "What _are_ you saying then?"

"I am telling you to gain some perspective! You are clothed, and you are fed. You are a prisoner of the Dark Lord's. Not a prudent time to play the victim."

In a billow of his robes, he left, leaving her once again in darkness. Hermione clung to the burning anger he had ignited in her.

* * *

><p>More time passed. She couldn't begin to know how much. She should have kept track of her meals. That could have been the only way she might have marked the passage of time. Or she could have asked Professor Snape, had her indignation and anger not taken over her. <em>Perspective<em>, he had said, as if the defilement of her body publicly was a lesser evil. She dug her fingernails into the palm of her hand. As the fury grew in her, her mind stumbled over a very obvious thought, and her hand relaxed.

Voldemort's attempt to destroy her in the darkness, by her own thoughts had failed. The moment Severus Snape had awoken that anger in her Hermione's despondency had fled, replaced with rage. Hermione couldn't help but think that in his own bizarre way, Professor Snape had been trying to be _encouraging_. Whatever his goal, he had shaken her from her melancholy enough to make her begin to think rationally again, the logical side of her brain sparking to life.

It made her question what Voldemort's intentions were, towards her, towards Ginny and Hagrid. He had said he was going to break them. Perhaps it was as simple as that. To make an example of Harry Potter's allies. He almost had broken her. He had very nearly broken her, and Snape had said that was still just Voldemort _playing_ with her. She shuddered. She would hate to see the full extent of his capabilities, when he wasn't playing, but all-out in his devotion to torture.

She became anxious thinking of Hagrid and of Ginny. What kind of torture were they enduring? Were they even still alive?

* * *

><p>Hermione had counted this time. She had received her meals seven times now, and if she was right in thinking that she was being fed twice a day, she was half way through the fourth day. Well, the fourth day since she had begun to count. It frustrated her immensely that she had been so unaware, so out of her mind before, that something as simple as counting had not occurred to her.<p>

It was disconcerting to awake in pitch black. Too see no difference from when her eyes were closed, than when they were open. Sleeping did not come easy.

As she began to doze, she heard a whisper.

"So angry now, I see." The words were a hiss, sending chills down her spine.

She looked in one direction, towards Voldemort's voice. She took a deep steadying breath before she spoke, praying her voice didn't betray her fright,

"You won't break my spirit," she said to the darkness, "you have violated me, have had Lucius torture me, but you cannot take from me who I am." There was a soft, mocking laugh that made her fury burn brighter, "if anything, you have strengthened me, and my resolve."

"Such big words, mudblood. As I can see Severus told you-perhaps, too nicely of him- that you have not even begun to know what I can do to break you." Hermione felt herself waver, the iciness of fear dampening her wrath.

"I have a name. It's Hermione Jean Granger. You can kill me, but you can't take that from me." She heard a soft hmmming from him.

"That was very stirring. Very eloquent. I applaud your backbone of steel. I will very much enjoy making you bend to me." Hermione felt his breath on her ear, "and you will, _Hermione Jean Granger_. You will kneel before me and call me your Lord." She shuddered.

"I would never. You are pure evil."

"There is no good and evil. There is only power, and those too weak to seek it."

"People are inherently good. It is greed, especially greed for power that makes men evil."

"Such a naïve, idealistic Gryffindor. Taught at Dumbledore's knee, no doubt." He was merely taunting her, for whatever reason. This must be his next method of manipulation.

"What have you done with my friends?" She demanded, her voice shrill. A sharp, painful jerk pulled her head back, and she felt his wand pressed to her throat. His voice was low,

"You will not ever speak to me that way again," she felt a stinging as he drew the wand across her throat, "do so and I will not be as forgiving." Voldemort released her, and she fell to the floor, knees shaking. "As your punishment, tonight you will be soothed to sleep with the cries of your little friends. I am kind, am I not? To let you hear them, to know at least they live." Hermione bit her tongue from replying, fearing anything she would say would somehow worsen Ginny and Hagrid's situation. "Very good. The mudblood can keep her mouth shut." There was a faint hiss, then absolute silence. He was gone. She received no sleep for a very long time, long after she could no longer hear Ginny or Hagrid's cries of distress, the sound of them pleading, or the sickening sound of flesh on flesh.

* * *

><p>Hermione was jerked awake. A Death Eater was looming above her, faintly illuminated by the light spilling in from the open doorway. <em>This was it,<em> she thought, her heart racing, they were going to continue torturing her now. She felt the comforting heat of anger as the Death Eater pushed her out of her cell, and then

led her down the sparingly lit corridor. She blinked, trying to adjust to the burning light. The hallway ended at the same circular room she had been tortured in the first night by Lucius Malfoy.

She noticed Hagrid and Ginny immediately. They were in the same cell as before, looking cramped sharing such a small space. Hermione shoved away the creeping feeling of self-loathing that rose up as the two of them looked up when they heard the soft sound of her footfalls. Ginny's bruising had turned into pale purple and yellow marks along her face, but there were fresh cuts along her arms. It looked like one spelt out "blood traitor." Hagrid looked exhausted, and much thinner than she had ever seen him before. She wondered again how long it had been.

"Hermione!" Ginny whispered, surprise in her voice. Hermione thought she also heard the hint of relief.

She glanced back at the Death Eater by her side, curious, as he paused outside their cell. He cast a spell and the door to the cell opened.

"You two will follow me now as well." He demanded, and turned swiftly towards the cellar stairs. Hagrid lumbered to his feet,

"Good god, Hermione!" Hagrid grabbed her in a fierce hug, and she felt sobs wracking his body, "I thought you were dead!" Hermione had to force herself to not flinch and pull away from the hug. It was only Hagrid. The Death Eater hissed at them to follow him, and they hurried to comply, when he pointed his wand towards them.

Ginny's lips were in a thin, trembling line as they followed the Death Eater up the stairs, and through the Manor. It felt strange to walk through the great house and not encounter another soul. Hermione spared a glance at Ginny. Ginny met her eyes for a moment before she cast them away. Hermione felt angry at the red head, and hurt. Then she recalled the sounds of the previous night, the sounds of flesh and grunting, and wondered if Ginny hadn't suffered worse than she had.

The sudden cold air brought her attention back to where they were walking. She frowned. The Death Eater had led them out the back of the manor, and they were heading away from the house now, into the starlit night.

"Where are we going?" Hermione asked.

"Quiet," was all the Death Eater said. Hermione grew suspicious. Where could the Death Eater possibly be taking them that was so far from the manor? If they were to be killed, it would have been easy enough to do that in the cellar, she reasoned objectively.

They were in no position to fight, with the Dark Lord's servant being the only one of them armed with a wand. Feeling that something was not at all right, Hermione plodded after the Death Eater. She had already come face to face with Voldemort. She had nothing much left to fear from his followers. Her unease didn't abate though.

The Death Eater came to an abrupt stop. They were at a wrought iron gate. It wasn't as large and ornate as the entrance, but there was still a snake that held the gate closed. What in the world was going on?

On the other side of the gate there was movement. Hermione's eyes peered through the darkness, trying to glimpse at what she had seen move.

Her heart stopped for a moment when she saw Ron and Professor McGonagall step forward from the shadows. Hermione saw Ginny glance sharply at the Death Eater, but he didn't react at all, completely at ease. Hermione frowned. Had the Death Eater betrayed Voldemort? She discarded that thought almost immediately. Who would be that foolish and remain so calm as they betrayed the Dark Lord right under his nose? So to speak.

She didn't recognize him as an Order member. No, it was something else. After a moment she had another theory. _The Imperius curse_. Professor McGonagall had a certain knack for it, when the rare time called for it's use, unforgivable or not.

Still, it's seemed almost too easy. Was someone else helping them? Professor Snape would never risk it; he had proved that much at Hog's Head.

"When the gate is opened we will have only a few moments to escape. Voldemort will immediately sense the opening of this ward. Do you three understand?" Minerva asked. Hagrid and Ginny nodded, both still dumbfounded. Hermione wasn't much better, with her mouth still agape. She shook herself, and tried to think of something relevant to say.

"We don't have our wands," was as all she managed to think of.

"Yes, Hermione, I did figure as much would be the case. I hope you do not object to hastily gathered substitutes. I do not know how well the wands shall take to you, but that is really neither here nor there at the moment." Hermione nodded, resolutely. Her eyes flickered to Ron's, properly looking at him for the first time. His blue eyes were determined. When he caught her eye, he smiled so gently at her that Hermione wanted to cry.

"I'm glad you're okay 'Mione, we're going to get you out of there." He called over the small distance between them. Shame burned through her. _If he only knew_. Hermione struggled to offer him a smile in return.

"Mr. Weasley, I do understand your feelings, but please focus." Professor McGonagall ordered, her voice without any real edge to it though. Ron nodded, his face set in determination. "The moment you're through the wards, you will need to run to the edge of the forest. That is where the anti-apparition jinx ends." Hermione's heart began to race. She glanced towards the tree line. It was at a distance of perhaps 100 yards away, roughly.

"Let me tighten me boots!" Hagrid's voice was shaky. His demand somehow made Hermione giggle, which released a rush of air from her lungs she hadn't been aware she was holding in.

"You all ready?" They all were; or at least as ready as they would ever be. The Death Eater raised his arm, and baring his Dark Mark, pressed his wand against it. The mark pulsed, and the snake locking the gate responded, slithering open. Ginny shot out of the gate first; Hermione was hot on her heels. She could hear Hagrid's heavy footsteps behind her. She was at Ron's side in a second, and Ron quickly pressed a foreign feeling wand into her hand, then grabbing her other hand, began to run with her. There were a few moments of relative silence, with only their running, and breathing disrupting the night. Then, Hermione heard a bloodcurdling scream. She looked behind her, and saw the imperiused Death Eater on his knees, clutching his arm.

"'Mione, _come on_!" Ron's voice was frantic. Hermione looked away and with a gasping breath forced herself to run for all she was worth towards the woods.

Then she felt it.

An abrupt heaviness in the air, a sizzling wave of power from behind her.

"Leaving so soon?" Voldemort called.

"Keep running!" Minerva urged them, and Hermione could hear the panic in her voice. She heard the sound of pursuit behind them, the rushing of several pairs of feet. Voldemort must have sent his Death Eaters running after them.

"It seems you are in quite the rush, departing without saying farewell. Niceties must be observed. Let me give you a proper send-off," Hermione felt terror grip her. _So close_, so close to the tree line. She could smell the pine. "Avada Kedavra!" Everything seemed to happen so slowly. Hermione and Ron had just burst into the woods, and for a split second Hermione had seen the black, rolling smoke of Voldemort's Death Eaters only feet from them.

Then there was a brilliant, terrifying flash of green light.

The green light illuminated Ron's face for a moment, casting his features in an eerie glow, there was surprise on his face, then all expression was wiped away, his eyes blank as the killing curse struck his chest. Another green curse shot out, missing Hermione by merely an inch. She didn't notice.

All she noticed was Ron's hand losing its grip on hers, his body falling lifeless to the snowy ground.

She was absently aware of shouting, of spells being flung, and of a warm hand taking grip on her arm. She thought she heard screaming, then there was a tingling starting from the pit of her stomach and she was being pressed upon on all sides, and with a sharp crack, the forest disappeared and all went black.


	7. Chapter 7

**AN:** For those of you who get story alerts, I'm not sure if they re-send it when I take down then put up the same chapter after I edit it. Suffice to say **you **_**may**_** need to see the author notes in the last chapter. **This is kinda a short chapter. My school work is being a complete and utter bitch right now. Sorry!

XOXO

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><p><strong>Chapter 7<strong>

The young man watched them flee with a sense of triumph. He had duped the Dark Lord. He saw from a distance, the bright green of the killing curse. He squinted and thought he saw someone falling, but it was too far away to be sure. Ron Weasley perhaps, he thought without much regret. Ron Weasley was a fool; it would be no great loss to the Wizarding world to lose him. Hermione Granger, on the other hand…it would be unfavorable if she had died. She was far too clever. Though he'd never tell her that. He saw a second flash of green, and heard the screeching cry of Bellatrix's laughter, and ear-piercing shrieks. His optimism for Hermione Granger's welfare went down a few notches.

There were far too many things that she could yet accomplish, despite her dirty blood. Though, blood purity seemed to matter less and less to him as the full nature of blood segregation had settled in. Forever damned to listen to the pawing and blabbering of purebloods newly put into positions of authority that they had no _real_ skill for. Pure blood, unfortunately, did not make a witch or wizard intelligent. Too much inbreeding, he conceded. Though he'd never admit it aloud.

His eyes sought out the Dark Lord. Voldemort stood in the middle of the expanse between the forest and the house, his stillness and apparent calm were betrayed by the thrumming of energy in the air.

Voldemort was not at all pleased his prisoners had escaped. He repressed a shiver of fear. Very few prisoners had ever escaped from The Dark Lord. _Though_, he thought with faint amusement, _Granger had once escaped captivity at Malfoy manor as well_. Two Death Eaters had been tortured within a hairsbreadth of death in punishment. His still remembered the terror of their ashen, shaking forms. Voldemort's punishment to the stunned guards tonight was sure to be great for allowing Granger to escape with the giant oaf and the Weasley chit. He felt only a flicker of pity for the guards he had stunned.

Voldemort's weakness was his arrogance. It would never of crossed his psychotic, brilliant, evil mind that the prisoners would escape because one of his Death Eaters had been imperiused, and another few disloyal.

The Order had nearly muddled everything up, rushing into the plan too hastily. They knew nothing of a slow, full seduction; there were too many Gryffindors left in charge. Only Slytherins knew of what it truly meant to deceive and manipulate, to become so immersed in your role you yourself nearly forgot. It had only been a short while that he'd been in his role, but he felt that he'd worn in much longer. It was a heavy weight to bear.

Sometimes, in the midst of a revel, when the bloodlust was high, and he was rolling in the waves of pleasure by the mouth of some whore, he terrified himself. Despite the horrors he knew Voldemort committed, sometimes he wanted nothing more than to please the Dark Lord, his fear and lust and awe so tightly intertwined. The Dark Lord had a talent with manipulation, with coercion, be it through torture or deviant enticement. It would be so easy to let go of resistance. He struggled with his cowardice urging him to give in. Those moments he felt himself slipping he'd force himself to think of his father, and his mother, and he'd remember then that Voldemort was truly evil. A hand gripped his shoulder and he jumped.

"What are you still doing out here?" Severus Snape hissed at him, "go!"

"Just making sure they got away, is all." He answered, a bit irritated that he had been so obviously startled.

"What would you have done had they been caught?" Snape sneered. His grip was fierce and dug into his shoulder, "if you do not wish Him to see you go _now_!"

"Don't treat me like such a child! No one saw me!" He bit out, scowling.

"Then do not act so childish Draco! This is not a game to prove your worth with!" The young Malfoy clinched his fists in anger, but slipped back into the house, disillusioned and undetected.

"Of course I know it's not a game." He mumbled, somewhat petulantly, as he entered his chambers. The door clicking shut, he leaned against it, pale brows furrowed, then muttered "or maybe it's the most dangerous one I've ever played."

"Draco." The voice spoke from the darkness of his chamber, and his heart leapt painfully, terror gripping him. The voice was familiar, and so like his own. He swallowed. He'd not show his fear, not allow a single tremble in his words.

"Father." He acknowledged.

"Where have you been? I was growing worried." Lucius voice was soft, like silk, and anyone who did not know what cruelties the man was capable of would be moved by the genuine concern that laced his voice. Draco was not fooled.

"I heard screaming from outside, Father. I went out to check."

"Oh, yes. That was rather…unexpected."

"Father, may I ask why you sought me out in the middle of the night?"

"The very reason you woke, Draco, the screaming." There was a flare of light and the fireplace lit, casting grotesque shadows across his father's face, "I do know how much screaming can give you nightmares." It took all his control, all the hard work he'd put into his training with his Godfather to keep his face even.

"Thank you Father," he lowered his eyes respectfully, hiding his emotions, "but I am fine." It was on the tip of his tongue to point out he'd been going to revels for months now. Screaming was commonplace and he had learned to deal with the resulting nightmares. He must of done something suspicious, something to make his father check on him. Draco was drawn tight, apprehensive. His father stood up from the giant leather chair he was occupying by the fireside, and came by Draco, and placed a hand on his shoulder. Draco didn't flinch, not even when his father gripped him tightly, a mock embrace.

"I'm so glad to hear that you're growing up Draco, letting the past be the past."

"Of course, Father. What's done is done." Lucius narrowed his eyes a moment, then nodded and left the chambers. Draco closed his eyes in relief. He'd have to be more careful. When Draco could no longer hear his father's footsteps he sunk to his knees, and allowed the pain, and fury he had kept at bay to take over him. His nightmares were sure to come tonight. Gathering himself up, he took a swig of the dreamless drought on his bedside.

He couldn't handle the nightmares of his mother. Not tonight.

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><p>The convulsing darkness around Hermione released her and she was thrust forward into a field of tall grass, then the pressure of apparation was pressing on her again, and she gasped. It felt as if she was being squeezed through a tube, then she appeared on a rocky coastline a suffocating minute later. Then again, and again, flashes of scenery were shooting past her, blurs of colors, of sounds, as she was forced through side-along apparition at a break neck speed. She began to see black dots in her vision, and the nausea building was fierce, but the only thought in her mind was that her hand was empty.<p>

She had left Ron behind.

Hermione released a soft sob. Her cries were torn and distorted as her presence blinked through a muggle village, a muddy riverbank, an alleyway.

After several more minutes, she was no longer being forced to apparate, the pressure gone, but she didn't notice.

She pitched forward, the nausea triumphing.

After a moment, when her body had ceased emptying her stomach and the dry heaves had stopped, she turned to the person who had forced her through such a rapid succession of apparition. George stood a few feet away, head lowered.

"We have to go back!" Hermione cried, pulling herself to her feet.

"We can't Hermione." His voice was a hoarse whisper.

"We left Ron! We have to go back and get him! We have to!"

George's voice was then unbearably soft, "you know he's gone." Hermione spun on her brother-in-law,

"Don't say that! Don't you dare say that!" Hermione realized she was gripping onto the foreign wand still. She could apparate back herself. She tried to take calming breath. _Destination, determination, deliberation. _

George lunged for the wand and ripped it out of her hand the moment she raised her arm, his eyes wild.

"Are you _stupid_?" George yelled with a fury she had never heard from him before.

"Give that back to me! I need to go back!" Hermione's voice cracked.

"Hermione, I saw Ron get struck down by the curse." George's face was twisted in pain, "he's…he's gone." Hermione shook her head, fighting the truth of his words. But the images of the brief fight came back to her, of his face illuminated in the green light. _The same green as Harry's eyes_, some strange, distant part of her thought. She knew he had been hit by the killing curse. She met George's eyes, and took a shuddering gasp,

"He's really gone. Isn't he?"

George gathered Hermione in his arms before she could blink. The warmth and comfort of his embrace was her undoing.

A harsh, keening cry was torn from her. Ron was gone, really gone. She had seen his pupils widen, and then dull as the life faded from them. His beautiful blue eyes, empty. The very eyes that had filled with tears of joy, and empathy only recently at their wedding. Her _husband_ was dead. They had never even been given a real chance at life together. They'd never have children together. They'd never laugh together again, kiss again, or bicker again. Her sobs shook her, and hot tears streamed down her face. She couldn't breathe, and she began to gasp between shuddering waves of tears. She felt George's arms tighten around her, and she turned into his shoulder and wept. His fiery red hair was blurred, and made her ache. It was the same red as Ron's.

"I swore I'd protect them," she thought she heard George whisper against her hair and he hugged her closely, then he was crying too, and they held each other as they sunk to their knees in shared sorrow. She felt so hollow, like she had wept out her heart.

_Gone_, he was gone. Endearing, stubborn Ronald, gone.

"Hermione we gotta go," George's voice seemed far away, "Hermione! We have to get to someplace safer." Hermione felt herself being shaken, and again, the pressure of apparition.

They appeared outside of the wards of a house Hermione had never seen before. George helped Hermione shakily to her feet, pulling her towards the wards. With a practiced wave of his arm they were dispelled long enough for them to get through. Hermione managed to ask,

"W-where are Ginny a-and Hagrid?" She couldn't lose anyone else. She took in George's tear stained face. _They_ couldn't lose anyone else.

"It will take them a bit longer. Hagrid has never been very fast at apparition, but Professor McGonagall should be with them." He look scared for a moment, and then shook it off, "they'll be fine. I'm sure." He paused and looked her over, "let's get you inside, and warm." Hermione looked down at herself, and realized her body was shivering from the cold. She hadn't even realized. She gripped George's hand, and squeezed it.

"You too George. We're both shivering." She replied softly, tugging him towards the door. He squeezed her hand back, and she felt warm tears running down her face. The gentleness was too much.

"I gotcha sis, I gotcha." His words sounded muted, but held a thread of strength, of promise. Hermione closed her eyes for a moment, in prayer, or supplication to whatever or whoever out there was listening.

_Please let Ginny be alright. George doesn't deserve any more sorrow. _

They slunk up the few steps, and the door creaky granted them entrance. _  
><em>

A weariness she'd never known took over her, and she fell into the first chair she saw upon entering the ramshackle house. So much death. It seemed never ending.

A terrifying, traitorous thought slipped into her mind. _Was it worth it? _As the body count lined up, her husband the most recent of victims in this horrible never-ending war, she felt herself losing sight of the objective.

_For the light!_

_For the greater good! _Some part of her cried. She was so tired. She'd try and care later.

Hermione gathered her legs to her chest, and slept.

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><p><strong>AN:<strong> _Please, please read and review!_ It will warm my heart!

You guys have no idea how hard it is for me to not rush this story. This is so agonizing for me. The spark that first gave me the idea for this story hasn't even happened yet, and we're in the seventh chapter. God, I'm going crazy. fghlkfghlkfk


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

When Hermione awoke it was to the sound of shouting. She had a horribly stiff neck, and groaned as she moved. Then it all came back to her. Her escape, the forest, Ron. She felt numb, hollow.

"What do you mean she's not with you?"

"She didn't want to stay here, I'm afraid nothing I said could dissuade her."

"Where is she?"

"Ginny's with Bill and Fleur at the cottage."

"She's being stupid!"

"She's hurt! Everyone is. Let her be George."

"My family is shrinking everyday! The least we can do is stay together!" There was a harsh exhale, "then we're going to the cottage." Hermione stood and followed the sound of the voices, and found Minerva and George in what must be the dining room. A long scarred table with dusty candleholders dominated most of the room. George was gripping the back of a wooden chair, and Minerva was seated on the other side of the table.

George was glaring, and Minerva looked determined. Hermione felt curiously distant, as if she were observing from afar. She absentmindedly noted the peeling fleur-de-lis wallpaper.

"I will not take you to the cottage George Weasley, and you will try and respect your sister's wishes."

"Her _wishes_?" George shouted, "Ron is _dead_! What is there to fight about? I just want to be with my family!" George's voice held a raw edge. Hermione closed her eyes for a moment, willing herself to stay numb, but the raw emotion in George's voice brought her back. _Ron is dead._ His words echoed in her head.

"I cannot stay here very long. Ginny has threatened to run away if Hermione is brought to the cottage right now. Either you leave Hermione here alone or you stay with her. Decide." Professor McGonagall said sharply, her voice high.

"Just put Ginny in a full body bind or something, the brat!" George yelled, "how's any of this Hermione's fault? Ginny is acting like an idiot!" Hermione felt a wave of sadness, then it passed and she felt the hot rush of anger. _How dare Ginny act like she was the only person suffering?_

"I can stay alone, if Ginny doesn't want to be around me." She bit out, and both of them turned to look at her, looking slightly abashed.

"Yeah right!" George snorted, "I told you I gotcha, didn't I?" Hermione managed a weak smile,

"George, you need to be with your family-"

"Oy! You're my family too." Hermione nearly broke at his kindness, at the earnest expression on his freckled face. She wiped at her eyes, and her brief, intense burn of anger subsided.

"That means a lot George," she let out a soft sigh, "but I think you need to be with Bill and Fleur, they're having a baby. Just go to them now. Even Ginny probably could use you now." She spoke evenly, trying to sound composed, even though she really didn't want to be left alone. George glared at her.

"No. I'm staying."

"There we have it. A decision. Lovely." Minerva spoke up, and stood from her chair, "now I should be going." Hermione felt a wave of apprehension.

"Professor why-" Hermione stopped, eyes wide, comprehending. Minerva met her eyes, and looked saddened.

"The runes have been under a stasis spell," she grimaced, "and the collar has begun burning. I doubt the spell will last much longer. The Dark Lord will not be pleased…"

Hermione looked horrified. "You can't mean to go back!"

"Hermione I don't have much of a choice in the matter." Minerva winced now, and Hermione wondered just how long she'd been holding back whatever power the ruins had on the collar.

"He must have seen you!" Hermione cried. She rushed to Minerva's side and gripped her hand, "he'll kill you!"

"He very well might, but I must go. If the stasis breaks while I'm here Death Eaters will swarm the area and then what would we do?"

"Just let me look at the collar! I know I can figure out the ruins! Professor, please!" Hermione begged, terrified that this could be the last time she saw her professor alive. Minerva squeezed her hand.

"You probably could, given time, Hermione, and that is something we do not have enough of." Hermione's eyes watered.

"What should we do?" George asked softly, and it seemed all the anger had been drained from him.

"Things did not all go according to plan, but Aberforth and the rest of us will try to salvage what we can. It will be all right. We'll contact you on the compacts," Minerva paused, "if we can." Minerva gave Hermione a quick hug, and whispered fiercely, "no matter how bad it gets, remember there is always something worth fighting for." Professor McGonagall placed a hand on George's shoulder, and after a second of indecision hugged him as well. He looked surprised, and a bit uncomfortable for a second, but the hug was quick. Hermione observed the professor whisper something to George as well, and noticed with faint interest that he seemed to stand a little taller.

"Professor, something still doesn't make sense," Hermione bit her lip, "Voldemort's a Legilimens. A proficient one. How did we think for a moment we could fool him?" Minerva's face crumpled for a moment before she recovered a composed expression. Hermione narrowed her eyes. "Minerva?" Her former charms professor let out a shuddering breath, and Hermione could see the stark pain in her eyes, and for the first time Hermione noted, not unkindly, how very old she looked.

"I cannot explain, there are too many things at risk. Severus will explain when he comes." Hermione's eyes widened.

"Professor Snape is coming here?"

"Briefly. Yes."

"What!" George exclaimed, surprised. "Why?"

"Because he is the only one who is going to be able to teach you both Occlumency."

"Occlumency?" George repeated the word questioningly, "what's that good for when we're hiding out in some muggle house?"

"I don't have time for this now George! Just trust me," again Minerva looked pained, "_please_. He'll be here when he can." Hermione's brows were furrowed, her mind whirling. She felt like she was missing a vital piece of a puzzle. A very simple, obvious puzzle. She hated the feeling.

When they all stood outside in the cold, the bright glare of the midday sun reflecting off patches of snow, Hermione realized she hadn't asked about Hagrid. Before she could ask, Minerva had already dissaparated on the other side of the wards. _And Luna_, she realized with dismay, she hadn't asked about her seemingly betraying words. She shivered, her breath fogging out before her.

Hermione felt a warm arm thrown around her shoulder, and had to concentrate to not shake George's arm off her. He's her _brother in law_, for goodness sake! _George_. She forced herself to relax.

"Something fishy going on wouldn't you say little sis?" He murmured as he squinted out into the snowy open fields where Minerva had just vanished.

"I think we're deliberately being left in the dark." She replied, carefully turning back towards the house, making her pull from George's arm seem natural.

"And Occlumency! Who'd have thought, huh? And being taught from the great resilient bat himself!" Hermione shot a glare over her shoulder at him, and George just grinned. The smile didn't quite reach his eyes though, and Hermione could tell that he was trying as hard as she was to stay composed, and focused.

"Come on George, I'll make us some tea." After a quick browsing through a moderately modern (by muggle standards) kitchen, Hermione had located some decent tea and after it was ready they had sat down in the small library right to the left of the kitchen. To call the room a library was a bit generous, as only perhaps three shelves were filled with books. They were mostly paperback novels, and by the looks of them mostly lurid romance novels, and cheap mystery novels. Hermione's inner scholar cringed at the torture the spines had endured; they were cracked and ripped, faded with age. The rest of the shelves were full of knick-knacks, snow globes, figurines, picture frames. Hermione settled down in the sofa, the soft leather sinking low as she sat.

"Where are we?" She asked George, who sat across from her in a flowery upholstered love seat. He blew over his tea,

"Not too far from Ben Nevis," he took a tentative sip, "I didn't think many people lived farther out than Fort William, this house was quite the find! Little old muggle woman lived here," he laughed, "I had to, uh, _suggest_ to her to visit family in Edinburgh."

"Poor woman!" Hermione felt immediately guilty that they had displaced an old woman from her home in the middle of winter. "It's so cold! Don't you know that the cold hurts the elderly's joints?"

"Hermione she left months ago!"

"Months ago?" She repeated.

"Remember Aberforth having me go on secret little trips?" He wiggled his eyebrows.

"He was having you find more locations for safe houses!" She burst out, pleased to finally know what he had been doing all that time ago.

"Among other things, yep!"

"What other things did he have you do?" George threw his palms up,

"You know, this and that. Hush, hush, top secret stuff." She rolled her eyes. Fine, if he felt like playing it that way, she'd bypass it. She took a sip of her tea, and nearly burned her tongue. It warmed her though. She gripped the little cup, and the mood changed.

"How long were we gone?" She forced herself to ask.

"A month and a few days." Hermione blinked. Only a month? She shook her head. That didn't seem right. It had been ages that she had been left in the darkness. She closed her eyes; she could still hear the slithering tones of _his_ voice against her ear.

"Are you sure?" George shot her a look.

"Yes, quite sure." He hesitated. "Ron went crazy, you know. After him and Aberforth and Luna appeared back at the place in Wales—great save with the portkey, by the way-he went bonkers, really. Bill had to stun him to keep him from doing something stupid." Hermione felt the sorrow well up in her. "He really loved you, you know." Hermione nodded, and wiped the tears from her cheeks, her brown eyes shining.

"Yes, he did," she whispered, "and I loved him."

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><p>Hermione stared down at her naked legs, tracing the outlines of her bruises. They were scattered across her flesh, blots of deep purple, and ugly shades of yellow. She pressed on one, and a dull pain flared. She gazed at it, pressed harder, and winced. Sitting in the bath, in the cooling water, everything seemed unreal. She lay back in the water, and closed her eyes as the water flowed over her face. The world became muted, and everything was black. It was only her and her thoughts. The irony struck her. The darkness and silence providing peace now when not even 24 hours before it had been her cell. She shot up from the water, splashing it over the edges of the claw foot tub, and she cried until she was weary. When she was finally calm, the water was cold and her fingers were all prunes.<p>

She climbed out of the tub and she looked at her pale face in the mirror. She studied herself. Her face seemed thinner than before, and there were shadows under her eyes. She looked haunted, and her eyes seemed far too big for her face. She turned to the side, and breathed in, startled. She could see her ribs. She flinched when she touched her breasts, they felt sensitive, and she wondered if it wasn't the memory of Voldemort's cruel caresses on them. Hermione hated how pathetic she looked. She drew herself up straight, and glared at her reflection, and in that moment made a promise to herself, that she'd not break. In Ron's memory, and in Harry's, she swore that she'd survive whatever came her way. She was the last part of the trio; she had to be strong for them.

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><p>He made his way through the unfamiliar city, following the peculiar route given to him. The fog was heavy, and obscured most of the buildings, making the narrow side streets he walked through all seem gloomy, and as if they held sinister secrets. After all these years, Severus still took no pleasure in dealing with Death Eaters, even familiar ones. Some few minutes later, after a few odd twists and turns, he came upon the red door. It was a dull, faded red, with chalk marks scraped across it. He knocked three times. There was a solid minute that went by, then two. He was scowling when the door finally swung open. A swarthy, large, oily man stood before him.<p>

"The route is long." The man said.

"He has taught me the shortest way." Severus replied automatically.

"Good to see you Severus! Can never be too sure."

"De Luca." He responded, in way of greeting.

Inwardly Severus protested at the ease and familiarity his given name was used. The man stood to the side, and allowed him to slip inside. Immediately he was assaulted by smells, all familiar. They reminded him of his days as a youth and they were not pleasant memories.

"Will you ever cease brewing with Poustils? They are no different than Red horned salamander eyes, and leave no wretched stench."

"The texture it yields is different! Thicker, sturdier!" Severus Snape said nothing, but his look of contempt, he knew, was sufficient. The other man chuckled,

"The same debate a hundred times will not change my mind."

"I do believe I held my silence." The man just laughed and led him up a few stone steps into a large room, covered with dozens of shelves, each jam packed with different phials of all size and color, containing everything from dragon's blood to giant's eyes. In the middle of the room were two long tables each with several cauldrons on them. One, Snape noticed with an inward sneer was a diamond encrusted one.

"What can I do for you this balmy winter's night?"

"I require three drops of unicorn blood, a single drop of basilisk venom, two vials of the cross breed of Bobotuber pus and Drakling beans." He said succinctly, forcing himself to not pause even as his throat began to strain. Piertro raised his thick brows.

"Oh, just that?" He said with mild sarcasm. Severus leveled him with a black gaze.

"Yes. Just. That." He made each word stretch out, "The Dark Lord does not like to be kept waiting." Piertro De Luca paled, and Severus could see a thin film of sweat beading on the man's upper lip.

"Now, Severus we're Brothers! I was just joking! Just joking! Give me just a few minutes to gather the needed things…" Piertro rushed off, deeper into his laboratory, gathering things in haste, and Snape smirked, watching the fat man quiver under his gaze. He felt a burning in his cloak. His face remaining impassive, he stepped around the corner and entered an alcove. His back to the laboratory he pulled out the compact and looked at the words burned across the case.

_HG & GW at the 9__th__ place._

_Commence at convenience. _

M.M

Severus Snape glared at the case. Would teaching insufferable children never cease? He had a flash of Hermione at the revel in his mind's eyes, and knew part of him was protesting at calling her a child. He slid the little silver disk back into his pocket. He held only a glimmer of optimism that they pair of them would be a smidge less dreadful at Occlumency than Harry Potter had proved. Snape's lips formed a thin line. Even with Potter and Dumbledore deceased, it seemed there was never any rest for him. Perhaps it would have been better for the world to think him dead.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:<strong>

I adore all the reviews! I especially appreciate the constructive reviews, the one's who can relate to the struggles of trying to write a decent fanfic, and the ones that are making me want to write more**: ****LttleSparrow****, ****Midnight Mahogany****, ****Lady C. Medusa****, ****louisianagirl900****, ****ThoughtCriminal**. Actually, everyone who has reviewed has been very sweet to me! Thank you all! **XKrystalLightManX**you are such a consistent reviewer! Thanks!

Also, I must give due thanks to **Nerys** who re-worked my summary for me. It's so much better now.

Oh, also I'm American so any glaringly non-British thing in here, for any inaccuracy, I apologize. I do the best I can ;)

Umm, also…It took me a bit of time to think of how the proceed with the transition of the story. More than that, I was really quite sad. I accidently deleted about ten pages I had written of unconnected scenes for later in this story. Scenes that had just popped into my mind and demanded to be written, and were quite lovely.

They're now gone, and I only have a faint recollection of them. I also had written about three pages of just character development. Sorry it took so long to get back... Its just fanfiction, but it's still upsetting. That's the end of the sob story. T_T


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